


just rut the doctor ordered

by GoldenTruth813



Series: Sweet Heat Series [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bathing/Washing, Biting, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Boys In Love, Caretaking, Come Eating, Come Marking, Comeplay, Creampie, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Face-Sitting, Felching, Feral Behavior, Heartbeat Kink, Heartbeats, Intercrural Sex, Intimacy, Keith in Rut, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mates, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multiple Orgasms, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Omega Verse, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Praise Kink, Riding, Rimming, Service Top Keith (Voltron), Soft filth, Tiddie Fucking, Trust, Wet & Messy, feral sex, rut cycles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:55:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26863240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GoldenTruth813/pseuds/GoldenTruth813
Summary: Keith has always had terrible ruts—too hard, too fast, toomuch. When his rut cycle begins to change to match his Shiro’s, he’s worried that this will be the thing to make his mate walk away. But Shiro’s determined to prove that he’s in this for the long haul.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Series: Sweet Heat Series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1959946
Comments: 249
Kudos: 497





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my “Keith helps Shiro through his first heat” fic because I couldn’t stop wondering how Shiro might help Keith through a rut. It was supposed to be short but it’s me so it’s not haha. 
> 
> If you’re worried about wip this is completely written and ready to post. 
> 
> I cannot thank starlitruns enough for supporting me while I wrote this and being my biggest cheerleader AND being a BAMF and coming up for the title for me. 
> 
> Also my eternal love and gratefulness to whiskyandwildflowers for the wonderful beta job and summary help.

Keith’s deep asleep, the last vestiges of sleep leaving him as the alarm on his phone buzzes. Without even opening his eyes Keith flings an arm, patting at the side table until his fingers curl around the edges of his phone. He clicks the side button to silence the alarm, fully aware he’s only snoozing it and will need to deal with it soon.

That’s a problem for Keith in five minutes. Right now he’s too goddamn comfortable to care about anything but staying in bed. Back when Keith slept alone, he never silenced his alarms. There was no point. He’s never been a huge fan of sleep and between balancing med school and his volunteer hours at the clinic, he’s never had enough free time to waste it lazing around in bed.

Now though, Keith wants to laze. It’s incredible how hard it is for Keith to leave the bed most mornings knowing Shiro’s in it.

The prospect of laying his eyes on his beautiful mate is enough for Keith to open them, his heart leaping into his throat as he takes in Shiro slumbering beside him. As always, the alarm has done nothing to disturb Shiro who sleeps like a bear in hibernation. He’s flat on his back, left arm thrown over his head and his face turned towards Keith. There’s a tiny spot of drool on his pillow and the slow rise and fall of his chest is rhythmic.

Learning to sleep with Shiro had been a bit of an adjustment after they first moved in together. Despite Keith’s desire for closeness, especially with the new mate bond, getting used to sleeping with another person after spending his entire life alone had been strange. It hadn’t taken long for that strangeness to shift into comfort, and Keith takes a lot of pleasure in being able to seek Shiro out in his sleep. Or like this, when Keith wakes at the crack of dawn and puts off starting his day for as long as possible to soak up a few more minutes with Shiro.

When Keith had lived alone he never used the heater. For some reason it always felt like a waste to use so much electricity to warm his apartment for just him. Now they use it regularly—Shiro hates being cold. Sometimes Keith even cranks it up extra high, like he did last night while Shiro was brushing his teeth. The extra cost on the next electric bill is worth being able to pull the sheet back to find Shiro asleep in nothing but his obscenely thin pajama pants in the middle of January. Knowing his touch won’t disturb him, Keith flings the sheet to the floor and replaces it with his own body—throwing an arm and leg over Shiro as he settles his head on the center of Shiro’s chest.

Beneath his cheek, Shiro’s heart beats steady and slow—a melodic sound that soothes Keith’s nerves. More and more lately he’s found himself waking up feeling out of sorts and agitated—probably from school stress. But this, taking a few minutes to start the day listening to Shiro’s heart always helps. Keith has no idea if it’s an alpha thing to be soothed by it, or just a Keith thing. All he knows is being able to listen and feel Shiro so relaxed and safe makes everything in Keith’s life slot into place. Even now, he can feel the irritation and unease he first felt at waking begin to fade away as he slows his breathing to match Shiro’s.

Between his work at the clinic the last few years and his classes, he’s listened to hundreds of people’s hearts but he’s never been as affected as the first time he heard Shiro’s heart beating—no steth or ekg machine between them—just his ear pressed to Shiro’s chest and the thud of Shiro’s heart beating against it.

Since then Keith’s made a habit of listening to it whenever he can, usually ending up sprawled between Shiro’s legs on their couch so he can use Shiro’s chest as a pillow when they watch tv or just relax after a long day. There’s nowhere Keith feels safer than in Shiro’s arms. During the first few weeks he assumed it was the new mate bond settling, but it’s been two months since Shiro’s heat and the physical need to be close to Shiro, and the sense of peace Keith feels being close to him, hasn’t faded. He’s accepted that while some aspects of it might be related to them being mates, there’s also just something about Shiro that is deeply soothing. He’s steady and calm and Keith loves him.

Keith loves him so fucking much.

The minutes pass far too quickly for Keith who finds himself slipping halfway back into dreamland, soothed into a state of such relaxation he nearly jumps out of his skin when the alarm on his phone buzzes again. Beneath him Shiro shifts in his sleep, a frown marring his pretty face as the phone vibrates loudly on the wooden side table. As much as Keith loathes the idea of getting out of bed, he loathes the idea of disturbing Shiro’s sleep even more. Shiro is _not_ a morning person and Keith doesn't want his day to start off on the wrong foot just because Keith’s feeling cranky and wants to cuddle more.

“Keith?” Shiro mumbles, his arm flying out in search of him.

It brings a smile to Keith’s lips even as he disentangles himself from Shiro.

“Shhh, go back to sleep, baby,” he whispers, kneeling on the bed and pressing a kiss to Shiro’s cheek.

“Mmkay, love you,” Shiro mumbles, rolling onto his stomach with his face shoved into the pillow. Keith has no idea how Shiro can sleep like that, but it’s a common enough recurrence that he’s given up questioning it.

Shiro’s ability to fall back asleep easily is something Keith envies, and by the time Keith’s rolled out of bed and pulled on his running outfit, Shiro’s already snoring. 

Before Keith leaves he grabs the sheet off the floor to cover Shiro, and he’s halfway out of the room before he’s hit with the worry that Shiro won’t be warm enough in the bed without him. He retreats, snatching the soft fleece blanket off the floor and draping it over Shiro’s shoulders. He also takes the time to plant one last kiss to the top of Shiro’s head, inhaling his scent before going for his run.

The sleepiness in Keith’s limbs dissipates the second his sneakers hit the pavement. When he first started running he’d absolutely hated everything about it—every mile was torture and his lungs screamed at him the entire time. Back then he was just sixteen,a newly presenting alpha full of hormones he couldn’t yet handle and no outlet for the emotional turmoil raging within as a result. To make matters worse the second he presented, Keith’s entire life had been upended when he’d been yanked from the group home he’d been at for the last two years and shoved into a youth shelter for alphas.

 _Presenting alphas cannot reside in the general population_ was the rule for most group homes. Despite all the progress society had seen, there was still this notion that a new alpha couldn’t control themselves. He’d been shuffled through enough foster homes and group homes to know the one he’d been in then was a good one. For a while Keith had deluded himself into thinking maybe he would present late or, if he was lucky, present as a beta so he could avoid being shuffled around again. It didn’t happen.

The morning of Keith’s sixteenth birthday he’d been woken up by a splitting headache and the overwhelming desire to claw his own skin off. He’d known then what the doctors would confirm twelve hours later—Keith was an alpha. What had followed was one of the worst two days of Keith’s life as he’d been admitted to a secondary gender assistance clinic, given the world’s most graphic and embarrassing sex talk, and then given a box of sterile and basic sex toys to get him through. He’d avoided opening the box as long as possible, but after sixteen hours of jerking off so much his cock ached, he’d finally busted it open. The lube had helped, and the rut aid felt like heaven around his throbbing cock— at least until his seed had spilled all over the bed and left him feeling somehow more empty than before.

The nurses talked to Keith about how he’d have increased stamina, how he’d need to orgasm a lot, and how his body would seek out sexual satisfaction over and over until the rut ran its course. _It’s natural_ they’d said, before shutting the door and leaving him alone. 

What they didn’t tell Keith was how empty it would leave him feeling.

The worst thing of all had been coming out of his rut, exhausted and lonely, to find his belongings packed in a black trash bag and a car waiting to take him to a new group home. The other boys there had laughed and clapped him on the back when he entered, egging him on to share how many times he’d come and asking how big of a rut aid he’d needed. 

The last thing Keith was prepared for was being shoved into a house full of raging testosterone within seventy-two hours of presenting.

The only upside to the entire thing had been meeting Kolivan—one of the volunteers at Keith’s new group home and a doctor at the affiliated secondary gender assistance clinic. Keith had taken a shine to him immediately, appreciating his judgment free advice and the no-nonsense way he offered help. After Keith’s third fist fight in two months, Kolivan had pulled him aside and told him he was going to be helping out at Kolivan’s clinic. At first it’d been nothing but sweeping the floors. After a few weeks, Keith was allowed to start alphabetizing files. The routine helped, as did having a purpose, and after a few months, Kolivan started giving Keith more jobs. He had nothing to do with patients, but it was enough that Keith knew he’d earned Kolivan’s trust.

Over coffee in the break room one day, Kolivan suggested Keith take up running. _”An alpha needs an outlet—a purpose. Find yours._

In the beginning, running had been torture. Over time, Keith came to love the way the air whipped through his hair and his lungs constricted—loved the feeling of uneven trails or solid pavement beneath his shoes. When Keith ran, the worries of the world slipped away, and it offered his body a healthy outlet for all of the pent-up energy and frustration he’d long carried. Along with running came other changes too. When Kolivan brought a counselor into the clinic, Keith found himself agreeing to visits. It was hard at first, but over time he found the ability to have a safe place to vent his feelings and soothe his fears. Even now years later, Keith still goes once a month, just to check in and unburden himself. It’s funny that he once thought therapy was for broken people when he now understands that therapy is for those who want to heal.

And heal Keith has. It’s been a long time since he was angry and alone, longer still since he was a floundering alpha with no idea where his place in the world might be. Kolivan had helped Keith find solace in who he is, and eventually it was easy for Keith to see that was what he wanted too—to help people. 

The road to med school has been no easy feat. The applications were hell and Keith’s got enough student debt to last him a lifetime. But he did it. He fucking did it. In a few years’ time, he’ll be a D.O. in his own right, not just a volunteer at the mostly student run secondary gender assistance clinic. Of course even when that happens Keith knows he isn’t going anywhere. Kolivan has made no secret that when he retires—which won’t be for at least a decade—he wants to leave the practice to Keith. It’s more than a lonely kid who once saw no future for himself can imagine.

Everything in Keith’s life is _good_. Med school is fucking brutal but he genuinely loves it. He also loves his work at the clinic and fuck does he love Shiro. Everything in Keith’s life has slotted into place to the point that there’s not a single thing Keith would change if he could. He wakes up every day grateful for the life he has and is hardly able to believe he could be so lucky.

Keith fucking loves his life.

Which makes it all the more disconcerting that something feels _off_. It’s a lingering feeling that’s plagued him for nearly two weeks and, try as he might, Keith can’t shake it. Not even with an extra long run.

He runs so far by the time he turns around and heads home he knows he’s barely going to have time to dump some coffee in their coffee pot to brew while he takes a quick shower before having to run out the door. He knows he won’t have time to eat breakfast and he won’t have time to scrounge together anything for lunch either. Normally when that happens Keith goes to the cafeteria and grabs something, but he won’t have time for that either since he agreed to pick up an extra shift at the clinic fifteen minutes after his last class of the day.

As Keith jogs up the stairs to his and Shiro’s apartment his stomach gives a pitiful grumble, and Keith can only hope there’s at least one protein bar left in the snack drawer or today is going to be hell. He pauses on the front doorstep, trying to slow his breathing and wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his forearm. Keith’s tired enough now that the strange restlessness seems to have gone, and he’s able to shake off his worry about what it means. Despite his happiness he’s been more busy than ever trying to balance school and work and a new mate—it makes sense he’s a little out of sorts. It doesn’t mean anything except that Keith desperately needs more hours in the day to sleep. The thought makes him snort, because Keith knows even if he did magically have more hours in the day he wouldn’t waste them sleeping, he’d spend them with Shiro—cuddling, laughing and fucking.

Fucking.

Just thinking about fucking Shiro makes Keith’s cock twitch in his running leggings, and he groans as he shoves his key into the lock. There is no time for fucking. Hell, there’s barely going to be time for showering. 

As the front door swings open, Keith’s hit with the scent of coffee and bacon and his stomach growls even louder.

“Keith, is that you?” Shiro yells from the kitchen.

“Yeah,” Keith answers, kicking off his running shoes and putting them on the little shoe rack Shiro built last week before making his way towards the kitchen. The closer he gets the more Keith can pick up other scents—eggs frying in butter and tortillas being warmed on the gas grills. He’s so hungry it takes him a minute to really appreciate the full view in front of him—Shiro dressed in only his pajamas bottoms that hang low on his tiny waist, clinging to his ass and thighs. His bare feet peek out from beneath the hem and he’s shirtless as he usually is when they’re at home, a tea towel thrown over one shoulder as he stirs the eggs and hums.

The scene is somehow erotic and domestic, and a rush of adrenaline thrums through Keith— arousal and contentment making his pulse race. 

“Why are you awake?” Keith chokes out, trying to put a damper on the overwhelming arousal he feels at seeing Shiro cook for him. 

Shiro turns and gives Keith a devastating smile, his pearly white teeth on display as he grins at Keith like the sight of him sweaty and gross is something to celebrate. There’s lingering sleepiness in Shiro’s eyes and his hair looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket, the floof sticking up in every direction. The weight of Keith’s affection for him is staggering—the desire to _mark_ him damn near overwhelming. The urge to shove Shiro back against the counter and mark him is nothing new, but it’s also far stronger than Keith is used to during such a mundane moment. Usually it’s an urge that hits when he’s fucking Shiro—or being fucked by him. It’s not a desire he associates with Shiro cooking for him.

“I remember you mentioned yesterday you were covering a shift at the clinic after classes today, which means you’re going to be gone for fourteen hours. You can’t have a day that long without a good breakfast.”

“You woke up early to cook me breakfast,” Keith croaks.

“Of course,” Shiro says, as if it’s nothing. He flips off the burner on the stove, tugging the dish towel off his shoulder and using it to playfully swat at Keith. “Go shower, I’ll get everything ready for you so you’re not late.”

“Oh, thank you,” Keith breathes, cheeks flushing when Shiro closes the distance between them to kiss him. “Go on, sweetheart. You don’t wanna be late.”

Keith mumbles something unintelligible, hurrying out of the kitchen before he does something stupid like drop to his knees. There’s no time for that.

The apartment is warm enough that Keith is able to take an ice cold shower without fear of freezing his ass off when he gets out, rushing through washing his hair and body and haphazardly jerking off—something that oddly takes less than a minute. Keith attributes his trigger-happy cock to his lack of sleep and hunger—and the memory of a half-naked and sleep-mussed Shiro cooking for him.

By the time he’s out of the shower and dressed, he’s pushed aside most of the strange feelings swirling through him. Feelings that make an unexpected return when he walks into the kitchen to find Shiro scribbling on a foil wrapped sandwich with a sharpie before placing it in a small cooler bag.

“Hey,” Shiro grins, adding in a little plastic fruit cup and a spoon before zipping the bag. Something in Keith’s chest does a funny flip flop. Shiro’s made him lunch too. 

“You didn’t have to go to so much trouble,” Keith says.

“It’s just a peanut butter and banana sandwich,” Shiro shrugs, like it’s nothing. Keith’s not sure how to tell Shiro that it’s everything. He’s been on his own for so long he’d gotten used to it. Even when he was a kid no one ever made him a lunch—his foster families had too many kids and usually took advantage of the free lunches at school.

Two months into his relationship with Shiro, he’s still unused to having someone around who wants to take care of him. Keith had lived with roommates before moving in with Shiro so he’s used to living with other people, but he isn’t used to this. Day after day Shiro goes out of his way to do things to make Keith’s life easier, or take a load off Keith’s plate. Last week Keith had come home to find Shiro did all their laundry so that instead of spending Saturday evening in the apartment laundry room, they were able to cuddle on the couch and watch Netflix. The week before, Keith had come home from a grueling day of glasses expecting to have to run to the store since the fridge had been barren when he left, only to discover Shiro had gone and done the entire week’s shopping after work—the fridge stocked with food and Shiro waiting with open arms. When Keith had tried to argue that Shiro didn’t need to take on all the household duties just because Keith was busier than him, Shiro had scoffed, linking his fingers with Keith’s and tugging him to the bedroom as he whispered _more time for us._

So no, Keith thinks—it’s not just a sandwich. It’s not _just_ anything.

“Alright, so this bag has two burritos double wrapped in foil,” Shiro says, clearly unaware of Keith’s thoughts as he passes him a paper bag. “And before you ask, no I didn’t forget the hot sauce. There’s enough on there to send you to the moon.” He grins as if he’s amused himself as he passes Keith what is quite possibly the largest to-go mug Keith’s seen in his entire life.

“What the fuck is this?” Keith snorts.

“Oh I, uh…I bought this for you. Came in the mail yesterday. It’s 50oz so you don’t run out of coffee in the middle of your lab.”

In Shiro’s world coffee mugs are love. It’s another thing Keith’s still getting used to. When they’d moved in together it’d been easy to blend their furniture, neither of them had much. Shiro took most of the closet because he has _a lot_ of clothes, and the kitchen, well, that’s full of Shiro’s extensive mug collection.

If Shiro’s happy, he has a special mug to fit that mood. If he’s sad, there’s a mug for that too. When he's tired there’s an extra large mug for that. Before Shiro, Keith had owned exactly one plain ceramic mug. He used it for coffee, tea, and cocoa. Whatever he was drinking went in the mug. Shiro on the other hand insists tea only goes in certain teacups, coffee goes in the mugs, and cocoa goes in something else. It’s absolutely ridiculous and adorable.

“If it’s too big you don’t need to use it,” Shiro says, misinterpreting Keith’s silence. “Just, I know what a day Thursdays are, and you don’t have time to get a cold brew at the coffee shop on campus and—”

“It’s perfect,” Keith interrupts, setting the coffee and burritos on the coffee table so he can fit himself against Shiro’s chest.

“Oh, good,” Shiro murmurs, enveloping Keith in a hug. His big hands smooth down Keith’s back in a movement so soothing it should settle the sudden uptick in Keith’s unease. It doesn’t. Not completely, anyway. Somehow it makes it worse, and Keith exhales a purposely slow breath as he rises up to nuzzle his nose against Shiro’s neck.

Shiro lets out a little hum of pleasure, his chest rumbling with the sensation as Keith inhales the subtle change in Shiro’s pheromones—contentment and pleasure evident in the ripening of Shiro’s scent. 

“You’re cuddly this morning, s’nice,” Shiro mumbles, tipping his head to the side as Keith rubs his cheek against Shiro, unsure if he’s trying to make Shiro smell more like him, or rub Shiro’s scent off on himself. Maybe both.

“I just love you.”

A heavy sigh leaves Shiro’s body, left hand curling around Keith’s hip. “I love you too.”

The words roll over Keith, barely skimming the surface of the sudden itch beneath his skin. Keith does his best to ignore it, biting down hard on his bottom lip as he mouths at the scent glands in Shiro’s neck. Shiro groans, his body going limp at the ministrations.

“You’re so good to me. I’m so lucky.”

Keith huffs, nosing against Shiro’s neck with a little more force, reveling in the way his scent sweetens when Keith does this. Between the two of them, Keith’s pretty sure he’s the lucky one, but he doesn’t bother disagreeing. He tried it once a few weeks ago and it had resulted in a thirty minute back and forth of them arguing over the other one being more special, and much as Keith secretly loves to hear Shiro list all the things he admires about Keith, he doesn’t have time for that today. He doesn’t have time to be scenting Shiro either, but not even a natural disaster could pull Keith away from Shiro right now.

The longer Keith mouths at Shiro’s neck, the more he’s overcome with a sudden and burning need to _mark_ Shiro.

“If this is the kind of thanks I get, I can wake up to make your lunch every day,” Shiro laughs, the sound breaking off halfway through and turning into something more like a moan as Keith latches his lips around the pulse point beside the glands and sucks hard. “Fuck, Keith.”

Keith hums, his own fingers digging into Shiro’s sides as he sucks and sucks until the only thought in his brain is the way the thrumming of Shiro’s heartbeat feels pulsing against his tongue. Shiro is his. _His mate._ He sucks long and hard enough to be sure a mark will be left. When he pulls back, Shiro sways on his feet—eyes shut and mouth hanging open. Keith takes in the quickly purpling mark on Shiro’s neck near the bond bite and the rapid rise and fall of his chest. Shiro looks vulnerable, his neck exposed as his pretty eyes flutter open to smile at Keith. 

“Wow,” Shiro breathes.

Keith’s heart skips a beat and the urge to drag Shiro bed and fuck him until he’s a boneless mess leaves him breathless. Keith’s no stranger to the urge to touch Shiro, to kiss and mark and fuck. Shiro’s nothing short of breathtaking. But this—a burning need so intense it makes him ache—this is new. Or, at least, staggeringly more intense than he’s used to before eight a.m. 

He swallows down the rush of possessive arousal, mentally chastising himself for his lack of self-control.

“Well I know I’m going to have a good day now,” Shiro smirks, rubbing his metal fingers over his lower belly. It draws Keith’s eyes down to the noticeable tent in his sweats. “Probably gonna need a _long_ shower though.”

“You’re such a fucking tease,” Keith groans, the arousal making his blood run hot.

A weaker man would drop to his knees and worship that cock the way it deserves. Keith is not weak, nor stupid. He doesn’t have any sick days built up, and he used his accumulated time off from the Secondary Gender Assistance Act for Shiro’s heat. Which means he quite literally can’t afford to miss work , and with his exam today he can’t risk even being five minutes late if he wants to pass.

Just because he knows he’s making the responsible and mature choice by not fucking Shiro senseless doesn’t make it any easier to move his feet _away_ from his mate. Especially not when the pheromones Shiro is putting off right now make it clear he’s aroused—because of Keith—because Keith is his alpha. 

Keith is a good alpha, one who knows exactly how to make his omega feel wanted and safe, and it makes Keith feel entirely too hot under the collar.

“Mmm, does it count as teasing if I take a picture and send it to you later?”

Keith nearly bites a hole in his tongue. Shiro is a fucking menace. “Yes it does. You’re a horrible fucking tease, but also please do it, baby.”

Shiro grins, his expression nothing short of smug as he gathers Keith’s breakfast, lunch, and coffee off the table and passes it to him. “If you get an A on your osteopathic principles and practice exam today I’ll send you a video.”

“Fuck,” Keith exhales, assaulted by a weird twang in his heart that Shiro remembered what exam it was, and more determined than ever to get an A. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Shiro agrees, hair falling into his eyes as he tips his head down to press a kiss to Keith’s lips—feather-light and more of a tease than a real kiss. 

There’s so much more Keith wants but from his current vantage point he has a perfect view of the blinking digital clock on the microwave, and he knows that if he doesn’t move his ass now he’s going to seriously regret it.

“Fuck, fuck I have to go. Why are you so pretty?”

Shiro huffs out a laugh. “Have you looked in the mirror recently? You’re the pretty one.”

“No, no, no,” Keith chants. “We don’t have time for this. You’re the pretty one.”

“Okay,” Shiro acquiesces, crossing his arms over his chest and grinning. Somehow his easy agreement makes the desire surge within Keith. Shiro never gives up that easily.

“God,” Keith groans, surging onto tiptoes to crash his lips to Shiro’s.

“Thought you had—mmmph.”

“Shut up,” Keith groans, burritos getting smashed between them. “Fuck you for being so perfect.”

A laugh rumbles out of Shiro’s chest as Keith forces himself away, aware that if he doesn’t stop kissing Shiro right this second he might just drop out of med school so he can spend all day touching his mate. 

“Alright, hotshot. Go, be great. Change the world.”

“More like take exams and fill out paperwork. Maybe one day,” Keith says, inching his way backward towards the front door. 

Keith keeps his eyes on Shiro the entire time, waiting until he’s out the front door to turn away. He races down the stairs, jamming his keys into the ignition of his car and inhaling both burritos one-handed as he hauls ass to campus. He makes it to class with three minutes to spare, dropping down into his seat and logging into the class server.

As the professor gives her morning greeting, Keith scrolls down the calendar and finds the test, clicking it open, and yawning as he reads the screen.

_Advanced Studies in Osteopathic Principles and Practice: Exam One_

The professor begins to speak, her voice monotonous as she explains that this exam is worth twenty-five percent of their grade. It’s one of Keith’s favorite classes this semester—the material reaffirming his conviction to become a D.O.—but today, instead of paying rapt attention as the professor speaks, Keith’s mind drifts. 

More than once he forces his attention back onto the professor, barely paying attention any longer as a wave of nausea hits him out of nowhere, staggering in its intensity. Normally Keith’s got a cast iron stomach combined with the digestive system of a twenty-four year old who doesn't need to worry about what he eats. Right now though, he can’t help but regret inhaling those burritos in the car. 

With slow, purposeful breaths he attempts to re-center himself. It doesn’t matter how stupid his stomach feels, he needs to ace this exam, both for his grade and so Shiro will send him that video to get him through his long-as-fuck shift at the clinic later. 

_Shiro_. 

The second Keith thinks of him, his mind latches on, his eyes falling shut as he imagines Shiro in their kitchen this morning, bathed in the early morning light and looking like a wet dream. Focusing on Shiro is always a good choice, and the longer Keith thinks about him and the breathy little moan Shiro let out this morning, the more the nausea subsides until it’s nothing more than a mild inconvenience.

“Time to begin,” the professor announces, her words breaking through Keith’s mid-class daydream.

Unfortunately for Keith the second he opens his eyes, some of the nausea returns, disrupting his little blissful reprieve. Keith ignores it in favor of clicking on the little box that says _Begin Exam_ , aware that he might need all sixty minutes they’ve been allotted to finish. There’s no time to let his mind drift away to thoughts of his mate, or to wallow in the unfairness of his history of eating too fast finally catching up with him today. He resolves himself to the reality of needing to buy Pepto-Bismol at the student store after class, and begins the exam.

He does pretty well ignoring the churning in his gut for a good fifteen minutes. As the timer on the corner of the exam counts down, Keith’s nausea rises, and by the time he’s halfway through the exam he’s broken out in sweat.

Keith grimaces as a second wave of it hits him—so intense he feels like he might throw up all over his exam.

“Mr. Kogane, are you alright?” the professor asks, drawing the eyes of every student to him.

He chalks the nausea up to nerves for the exam and his breakfast, giving the professor a tight smile. “I’m fine.”

“Alright,” she says, though her eyes make it clear she doesn’t quite believe him.

It might not be the complete truth, but it’s also not a total lie. Keith’s stomach feels like shit, but he’s halfway done with his test and he’ll be damned if he gets an incomplete because of some mild indigestion. Objectively, mild might be an understatement, but Keith’s always had an incredibly high tolerance for pain and discomfort, and he’s not lying when he says he can handle this.

The nausea doesn’t get any better, but it doesn’t get worse either, remaining uncomfortable as he speeds through the exam as fast as he can without missing anything. He finishes the exam with fifteen minutes to spare, clicking the submit button and holding his breath as he waits for his results to display.

 _Ninety-One Percent Correct_ , blinks onto the screen and Keith nearly cries with relief.

“Those of you who’ve finished may leave,” the professor reminds the class, her words clearly meant for Keith. He appreciates that she doesn’t draw attention to him by name again, grabbing his backpack and hightailing it out of there. He pauses in the hallway long enough to text Shiro his test results before rushing to the private bathroom near the cafeteria. There’s a closer, multiple-stall bathroom near his class, but Keith isn’t about to risk puking with someone in the next stall, and jogs the extra quarter mile for more privacy.

Keith has barely shut and locked the bathroom door when his phone buzzes in his pocket. The nausea he feels is dwarfed by a rush of anticipation as he pulls his phone out and reads the lock screen notification— _Video Message from Shiro_.

Suddenly the unease in his stomach doesn’t seem so bad, but then again Shiro has that effect—making anything and everything in Keith’s life easier to deal with.

He unlocks the phone, eyes riveted to the small screen. He doesn’t need to click play to be able to tell from the video preview that Shiro is in bed— _their_ bed. He jabs the screen to play the video with such force he nearly drops his phone.

Immediately Shiro’s honey-sweet voice fills the room, and Keith is eternally grateful he decided to pick the single-stall bathroom so he doesn’t need to watch the video on silent. Shiro’s voice is like a balm to Keith’s soul—the smooth timbre of his voice soothing away Keith’s agitation and somehow even his nausea.

_”Hi sweetheart. I miss you._

Keith shoves his fist into his mouth and groans as Shiro rolls from his stomach onto his back, angling the camera down to show that he’s naked.

_”I jerked off in the shower thinking about you, but it wasn’t enough. Look how hard I am.” ___

__He moves the camera lower to show off his massive cock—thick and heavy against his belly and leaking pre-come out of the flushed pink cockhead. Shiro’s cock is so pretty, and Keith’s mouth waters as his own cock hardens in his jeans. Fuck, Shiro’s so hot._ _

___”Mmm, the bed smells like you,”_ Shiro murmurs, tipping the camera towards his face which is turned into Keith’s pillow. He’s got his eyes shut, his chest filling with air as he inhales the scent, and Keith feels fucking insane watching the way Shiro moans. The idea that his scent makes his mate so aroused has Keith’s chest puffing up with pride and his cock aching. _ _

__His omega is aroused by his scent, is calmed by his scent. It’s enough to have Keith quite literally biting down onto his fingers to stop from making a sound that anyone passing by outside might hear._ _

__Shiro props the phone on the edge of the bed, presumably against an extra pillow. Some of the camera ends up blocked by the sheets but it gives Keith a view of Shiro’s neck and the lower half of his body._ _

___Oh, Keith,_ Shiro moans, skimming his metal fingers down his broad chest. He flings his left hand out towards the side table, and Keith assumes it’s to get the bottle of lube they keep there. Instead, he’d got Keith’s stethoscope in his hand. Keith’s soul nearly leaves his body as Shiro puts the earpieces in and places the head over his heart._ _

___It’s so fast, Keith. Because I’m thinking about you. God, I wish you could hear it, hear the things just thinking about you does to me._ _ _

__The faint metallic taste of blood hits Keith’s tongue as he realizes he’s bit down hard enough to make his finger bleed. He shakes it out, rubbing it on his jeans before haphazardly yanking his zipper down and shoving his hand into his pants. He’s never jerked off in the bathroom at school before, but there’s a first time for everything. Somehow it doesn’t matter that someone is knocking on the door, or that Keith is supposed to be on his way to work. All that matters is the breathy way Shiro moans, continuing to listen to himself as he wraps his fingers around his cock._ _

__“Fuck,” Keith groans, breathing so deeply through his nose he gets a little lightheaded as he watches Shiro’s cockhead slip through his fingers—the glistening tip popping out of the foreskin to reveal a shimmer of pre-come. Keith feels fucking insane with how hard it makes him, how much his entire body thrums with desire. He’s no stranger to sex with Shiro, and Shiro’s even been bold enough to send Keith a few naughty photos during his longer days, but he’s never sent a video. And not just any video, but one _just for Keith_._ _

__He’s not just jerking off, he’s doing it knowing Keith will watch, touching himself the way he wishes Keith was touching him._ _

___“Oh god, baby, feels so good,”_ Shiro gasps, spreading his legs wide. _I need…oh god, I need more_._ _

__“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Keith stutters, gripping his cock roughly. He’s not going to last._ _

__Shiro abandons holding the the head of the steth on his chest, shaking the earpieces out as he retrieves Keith’s discarded sleep shirt from last night off the floor and balls it up in his fist, turning to bury his face in it as he jerks himself off._ _

___”Alpha,_ ” Shiro whispers, his voice going hoarse._ _

__Keith nearly faints. There’s little in the world more arousing than watching the effect his scent has on his mate. Keith wants to fuck off work and drive home, wants to pin Shiro to the bed and rub himself all over Shiro until he’s covered in Keith’s scent,wants to come on him, mark him, wants to have Shiro quivering and screaming under him._ _

__None of them are new thoughts but the intensity is startling. Keith had no idea he has such a kink for watching Shiro on video, but it’s the only explanation for why Keith is already so close to shooting off his load in the bathroom after just a few minutes._ _

__Shiro stops talking after that, but he doesn’t need words to make it clear how good he feels. He writhes on the bed, stroking himself with increasingly harder and faster strokes as he ruts into his hand and nuzzles his face into Keith’s shirt. He’s noisy too, moaning and whining as he abandons touching his cock just long enough to gather some of his own slick from between his legs, bringing his now sticky fingers up to coat his cock in it._ _

___”So wet just thinking about you, Keith”,_ he gasps, the filthy squelching sounds of his cock sliding in and out of his fingers filtering through the phone. Shiro’s always noisy but this is something else—something extra. He’s angling his body towards the camera, his moans constant now as he messily strokes himself. He’s doing this for Keith, and the knowledge makes Keith feel fucking insane. They’ve shared enough of their past for Keith to know this isn’t something Shiro’s ever done with anyone else, though he’d appeared excited and flushed the first time he’d flirtatiously offered to send Keith a photo if he wanted. Keith had definitely wanted, still wants. _ _

__He wants and he wants and he wants. He also wishes now he’d skipped his run and fucked Shiro before leaving the house because right now there’s nothing Keith wants more than to bury his cock in the warmth of Shiro’s body. Just thinking about the drag of his cock against the swell of Shiro’s ass, shoving it between the plump cheeks before pressing inside his wet and welcoming body makes Keith’s knees weak as he slumps back against the wall._ _

__There’s a sheen of sweat across his entire body now, his own chest heaving as he roughly jerks his cock. He doesn’t care about the fact that his hand is a little too dry for it to feel really good or that he’s going to ruin the inside of his jeans. All he thinks about is Shiro._ _

__Shiro on his knees with his mouth open, pretty eyes wide as he lets Keith fuck his mouth._ _

__Shiro on his back, eyes trusting and open as he lets Keith worship him._ _

__Shiro with his ass in the air, hands and knees on the bed as he begs for it harder and deeper, screaming with bliss every time Keith knots him._ _

__Shiro with his head thrown back and the permanent teeth-shaped mate bite on the side his neck on full display as he rides Keith and moans like there’s nothing better than having Keith’s dick up his ass._ _

__They do it the other way too. Shiro’s dick is too nice for Keith not to wanna be fucked, and Keith is most definitely no stranger to being the one on his hands or knees having his brain fucked out. But most of the time it’s Shiro taking it up the ass, which works great for Keith because as much as he loves a good dicking down, there’s nothing he loves more than being buried balls deep in his mate. Just thinking about it is enough for Keith to come, forgetting to breathe and he rides out his orgasm._ _

__There’s knocking on the other side of the bathroom again, but Keith does nothing but slightly lower the volume on his phone, the hairs on the back of his neck standing up on edge at the idea of anyone else getting to hear what Shiro sounds like. Shiro is his omega—his mate._ _

__On screen Shiro moans with abandon, his back arching as comes in thick spurts all over their red satin sheets. Shiro is the epitome of sex—his hair a mess and his eyes blown wide. As if that wasn’t erotic enough, Shiro’s chest and the sheets are covered in his come. A dull ache throbs in Keith’s chest that he’s missing it—that he’s not there to lick Shiro clean and bask in the musky scent of his orgasm. He wants to be there to press Shiro down into the bed and scent him until Shiro’s boneless and overstimulated._ _

__Shiro always smells amazing but there’s something sharp and sweet in his scent when he comes, and it calls to the most primal part of Keith’s hindbrain to know he’s the one responsible for it. He wants to smell him now, aching with a strange emptiness. He doesn’t have time to worry about what it means, because the person on the other side of the bathroom door bangs again. Keith barely has time to pocket his phone, wash his hands, and make his escape from the bathroom without making eye contact with whoever was on the other side._ _

__He makes sure to send Shiro a praise filled text letting him know how gorgeous he was and that no matter how tired Keith is, he’s going to fuck Shiro good and hard when he gets home. The second the text is sent Keith races to his car, only realizing his nausea is gone when he’s pulling into the clinic parking lot ten minutes late. Maybe Shiro really does cure all, he thinks, grabbing his duffel bag out of the trunk before rushing inside._ _

__“You’re late,” Lance yells, the second the door swings open._ _

__“Jesus fuck, what are you, the time manager,” Keith grumbles, grateful there are no patients in the waiting room right now._ _

__“Uh, no, I’m just a conscientious employee. You know, when we lived together you were never late. I’m starting to think Shiro is a bad influence on you,” Lance says, waggling his eyebrows._ _

__Keith knows he’s joking. Of course he does. Lance is one of his oldest friends. They were paired together in college orientation and roommates for five years before Keith moved in with Shiro. Lance has worked at the clinic as the receptionist and bookkeeper for nearly as long. Aside from Kolivan, Lance is Keith’s oldest friend. For as obnoxious as Lance can sometimes be, combined with the fact that Keith _knows_ eighty-seven percent of what comes out of his mouth is bullshit, he can’t help but feel his own irritation rise at the words—not for himself but because of their implications against Shiro. _ _

__“Don’t talk bad about Shiro,” he grumbles, hefting the duffel strap higher on his shoulder._ _

__“Wow, calm down, dude. I was joking. Anyone who’s met Shiro can see if either of you are the bad influence in the relationship, it’s you. He’s way too good for you.”_ _

__Again Keith knows Lance is joking. He always talks like this, and has since he met Shiro. Instead of letting the comments roll off his back, they wiggle beneath his skin, making him feel irritated and wrong-footed. Shiro is his. He’s not going to lose him to someone better._ _

__“Shut the fuck up, Lance.”_ _

__“Jesus Christ, you woke up on the wrong side of the bed,” Lance snorts, swiping the clipboard off the counter and wrinkling his nose._ _

__Keith bites his tongue as he shuffles past Lance to the break room, exhaling a low deep breath as he drops his duffel bag on the floor. He doesn’t know what’s wrong with him. Irritation continues to prickle beneath his skin as he yanks open his bag, digging out his scrubs and making his way to the bathroom to change. Since he’s already late he doesn’t bother rushing, taking a few extra minutes to do some of the breathing exercises he learned in therapy. It’s been a long time since he needed them, but like riding a bike the techniques are second nature._ _

__Ten minutes later he’s got a grip on himself, mostly, and makes his way out of the bathroom. He locks his duffel in his locker before heading back out front to find Lance talking to a young kid at the reception desk who looks no more sixteen. He’s got a scowl on his face and a nasty cut on his cheek that looks like it might be infected. There’s also enough pre-heat pheromones oozing off of him to send a weaker man running. Lance doesn’t even bat an eye. As a beta, he’s unaffected by others’ pheromones, and as a person he’s just good at rolling with the punches and dealing with other people’s fluctuating moods. He’s a good guy, and a fresh wave of guilt assaults Keith for being such a dick._ _

__“Alright, we can definitely see you today. We’re always open for walk-ins,” Lance says, clearly unruffled by the aggressive energy the teen is putting off. “If you could just fill out the health screening forms I’ll let one of the doctors know you’re waiting.” Lance grins, passing him the clipboard then not-so-casually lifting up the little bowl of fun size candy he keeps near his computer onto the edge of the reception counter towards the kid. There’s a moment of hesitation before the kid grabs a handful of candy, shoving it into his tattered hoodie pocket before clutching the clipboard to his chest and slinking off to the furthest corner of the waiting room._ _

__“You know you’re really good at your job,” Keith says._ _

__Lance spins in his chair, a shit eating grin on his face. “I know, right? None of you deserve me. Is this an apology, by the way? Because I also accept Venmo and gifts. I am also not opposed to you installing a _World’s Best Office Manager_ banner with my face on it on the back wall.”_ _

__Keith snorts. “Look I’m sorry, okay. It’s been a weird day.”_ _

__“Apology accepted,” Lance says, easy as all that._ _

__A sigh of relief leaves Keith as he approaches Lance’s desk, nodding his head to the teen in the corner. “So, what’s up with him?”_ _

__“Oh, him.” Lance purses his lip, glancing at him once before turning his eyes back on Keith and lowering his voice. “He’s definitely pre-rut but I don’t think he knows it. You’d think in this day and age the public school system would have better secondary health education, but you know—” Lance waves his hands around._ _

__Keith does know. The only thing harder than relying on the school system to learn what you need to know about your heats or ruts is being in the system, or homeless. It’s a double whammy of disadvantage that leaves most of their clients ill-prepared to handle their ruts and heats—often resulting in physical and emotional deregulation—and left without adequate education to be prepared for what is happening to them and lack of access to the right kind of health care._ _

__Kolivan and his clinic is the only thing that saved Keith when he was knee deep in self-loathing and anger, putting him back on the right track and helping him find a support network that not only looked at his actual rut, but the social and emotional impacts it had and how that impacted Keith’s mental and physical health. It’s a huge reason why Keith loves this clinic so much. In a world where dedicated heat and rut clinics and usually only for the wealthy, Kolivan is doing something important here by bridging the gaps in access to education. It’s also why Keith ended up deciding to become a D.O. in the first place and why his specialty is in secondary genders—an atypical career for an alpha who in theory could easily have fast tracked it into a more lucrative career in surgery._ _

__“Imagine being that close to your rut and not even realizing it?” Lance says, plucking a little box of Lemon Heads from his candy stash._ _

__Keith can imagine. It doesn’t feel so long ago he was fifteen and hiding his dirty sheets from his roommates in the group home and picking fights with anyone who so much as looked at him. It’s been a long time since Keith felt that out of control and confused and his heart twinges with empathy. It’s terrifying to not understand your body—to not feel in control._ _

__Before Keith can answer Lance, Kolivan makes his way out of his office. There’s a furrow in his eyebrows as his gaze darts from Lance to Keith. “Afternoon gentleman.”_ _

__“Afternoon, doctor. You’ve got one walk-in filling out his medical history in the waiting room and another one coming into the office in about twenty minutes for a post heat exam.”_ _

__“I can take the walk-in. I don’t have any appointments until four,” Keith says, already reaching for the sign in sheet Lance is holding out, as if he read Keith’s mind and knew he’d offer._ _

__“That’s quite alright,” Kolivan says, clearing his throat and plucking the sheet from Lance and pocketing it in his long white coat before directing his attention to Keith. “You’re behind on charting. I’ll handle the patients today.”_ _

__Keith withers inside. Kolivan isn’t wrong, but he’d hoped he hadn’t noticed. Funding for the clinic is low enough that they only recently got a grant to upgrade their systems, which means sometimes when it’s on the fritz they use paper charts and have to input it into the system after. Normally Keith is excellent at staying on top of it, but the last two weeks he’s found his concentration slipping. The last few have been especially bad, and Keith is ashamed to admit just how behind he is on charting. Worse, apparently Kolivan has noticed._ _

__“Of course,” Keith says, biting back his own embarrassment and guilt._ _

__Lance waits until Kolivan has taken the patient into one of the exam rooms before spinning his chair around to face Keith._ _

__“So, what did you do to piss off, Kolivan?”_ _

__“I didn’t do anything to piss him off.”_ _

__“Right, so he just took you off patients for no reason.”_ _

__“I’m behind on charting,” Keith grudgingly admits._ _

__“ _Okay_ ,” Lance singsongs. “Sure.”_ _

__His tone rankles Keith’s nerves—as if Keith would make up something like that when it makes him look bad. There’s nothing he hates more than people thinking he’s lying when he’s not, but he’s not about to waste his time trying to convince Lance that he hasn’t been doing his job because he’s been extra stressed out. He feels bad enough as it is. Especially since Lance is stupidly good at his job and has never once been behind on his own work, not even during their busiest weeks when they’re understaffed and Lance takes on the work of three people because they don’t have the funding for a receptionist to help Lance out._ _

__Admittedly it feels excessive, even to Keith. Kolivan has never taken him off patients before, but he’s known Kolivan long enough that he resists his natural instinct to assume he’s lying. If something else is going on Kolivan would have told him. At least, he thinks so._ _

__“So, what—” but Lance cuts himself off when a patient walks through the door, spinning his chair to face the front and putting on his best customer service smile. “Welcome.”_ _

__Keith sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. Already he can feel a headache building, and it’s the last thing he needs. As Lance checks in the next patient, Keith sets himself up in the far corner, pulling out the stack of charts he’s only halfway through and turning on the second computer. It’s the older one they got before the systems upgrade grant and it takes a stupidly long time to boot up and load. By the time Keith’s got himself logged into the system and onto the portal there’s another walk-in patient in the waiting room and the phones are ringing off the hook._ _

__He does his best to ignore the goings on at the front end—aware that Lance can handle switching between phones, patients and computer work—and tries his best to focus on his own work. It’s slow going but Keith pushes through, surprised when he looks up and finds that two hours have gone by in the blink of an eye. What hasn’t disappeared is the stack of charts which, impossibly, seems as big as when he started._ _

__“Fuck this, I need coffee,” Keith grumbles, shoving away from the table. “Lance, you want some coffee?”_ _

__“If you mean that swill that you and Kolivan guzzle by the gallon from the break room, no. If you mean Starbucks, yes.”_ _

__Starbucks sounds like heaven. Keith would sell his soul for a six shot iced americano right now. Unfortunately as behind as he is on work he doesn’t want to risk leaving the clinic, especially not during rush hour. There’s no way he could make it there in back and not go over his break. Ten minutes later he’s back at his work set up with a chipped mug full of old coffee and as many creamers as he could find in the drawer. It’s a little cold and they’re low enough on creamers that he was forced to mix irish cream, hazelnut, and mocha because there was only one of each. It’s disgusting and tastes like something Shiro would like, and it’s only the thought of Shiro’s eyes twinkling if he were one the drinking the Frankenstein experiment in Keith’s coffee mug that stops Keith from spitting it back into the cup. That, and the fact that his headache feels like it might split his head in two._ _

__“Excuse me, I’d like to see a doctor please.”_ _

__The patient’s words pierce Keith’s brain, loud enough he can’t tune them out._ _

__“When did you want an appointment?” Lance asks._ _

__“Right now.”_ _

__Lance sucks in air between his teeth. “Unfortunately the doctor is with a patient right now. There are also two appointments after that. But if you’d like to fill out the health history, you’re more than welcome to wait.”_ _

__Out of the corner of his eye Keith can see the girl—no more than sixteen or seventeen—frown. “How long?”_ _

__“Well, that’s really impossible to tell given the nature of some of the appointments. Ballpark would probably be a minimum of an hour and a half unless one of the patients is a no-show. We do have a TV you’re welcome to watch while you wait and—”_ _

__“What about him,” she yells, and it’s only when Keith looks up that he realizes she’s pointing at _him_.” “He’s in scrubs. He’s a doctor. I’ll see him.”_ _

__“Unfortunately, the only doctor seeing patients today is Dr. Kolivan and—”_ _

__“Is he a doctor or not?” she snaps, running her hands through her hair and smacking her gum._ _

__“Technically speaking, no,he’s a med student,” Lance answers._ _

__“So he’s not a real doctor? He can’t see patients and shit?”_ _

__Lance somehow manages to sound like he’s smiling as he speaks. He’s good at that, even with the most volatile or difficult patients. “He can see patients actually. Think of him as a baby doctor. Just…not today. Today Mr. Kogane is out of commission. So if you’d like to fill out the health history, you’re more than welcome to wait to see Dr. Kolivan. If there’s a real emergency there’s also an urgent care half a mile away.”_ _

__She frowns again, snatching the clipboard off the counter. “I guess I don’t have a choice but to wait.”_ _

__Even though it’s not Keith’s fault he was pulled off patients today, the weight of the reason Kolivan made that choice weighs heavy on him. He has no idea if there’s something wrong with the girl or if she’s always that abrupt. It doesn’t matter. She needs to see a doctor and Keith’s the reason she has to wait, and may not even get in before the clinic closes at six thirty._ _

__“Dude, stop sighing like someone died.”_ _

__Keith frowns. “I don’t like being stuck back here charting, it’s boring. I feel useless.”_ _

__“Are you calling what I do useless? Because I’ll have you know that you and Kolivan couldn’t last one day without me pulling the strings of the operation.”_ _

__It tugs a smile from Keith’s lips. Lance isn’t wrong. He took a vacation once and Kolivan called him crying because he locked himself out of the patient portal. Lance is really good at his job, and is the entire reason they got their most recent grant. Keith is smart enough not to tell him though. Lance thinks enough of himself as it is._ _

__“Look, you’re not completely without use, but it’s not for me. I hate being stuck back here, especially where there are patients who need help.”_ _

__“Yeah, yeah. Drink your coffee, Superman. Live to save another day and all that.”_ _

__“Fuck you,” Keith snorts, nearly choking on his coffee._ _

__“I love you too, now hide behind your computer screen like the gremlin we both know you are and don’t come out until you’ve finished your homework.”_ _

__Keith leans sideways to make sure the patient isn’t watching before flipping Lance off. It earns him Lance chucking a fun size Mounds bar directly at him—landing his shot square in Keith’s forward._ _

__“Boom, just call me Sharpshooter,” Lance cackles, ignoring Keith when he flips him off again. Keith fucking hates coconut, which Lance knows._ _

__It’s a testament to how abysmal Keith feels that he rips open the candy bar and shoves it in his mouth. Maybe a sugar rush will make things better. If Keith thought things couldn’t be worse he was wrong—anything is made worse by the presence of chewy coconut in one’s mouth. There’s no napkins or tissue close enough to spit it out so he sucks it up, only chewing it halfway before swallowing it. He chases it down with the rest of his coffee, grimacing when he finds the majority of his sugar stuck in the bottom of the cup, not even all the way dissolved._ _

__Somehow it makes Keith want to cry. Cry and go home and face plant on top of Shiro’s chest and never get up._ _

__The thought alone makes him feel pathetic. Keith knows not all days can be good days, but the last few days he’s felt increasingly worse. The only bright spot in his days has been Shiro. Everything about him makes Keith so goddamn happy, and the fact that at a time where he’s objectively happier than he’s ever been—the dream boyfriend and mate, halfway to his dream degree, and working his dream job—makes Keith feel ungrateful and out of sorts. He shouldn’t be this cranky just because he’s had a weird few days._ _

__He thunks his head down the table, squeezing his eyes shut to fight off the tears. Stupid. He’s being stupid._ _

__“Keith, are you alright?”_ _

__Keith’s head flies up off the table, a piece of paper stuck to his cheek. He rips it off, scrubbing a hand across his face. Fuck. He hadn’t even heard Kolivan come out._ _

__“Yes, fine,” he tries, even though he’s known Kolivan nearly a decade and he likely sees right through the lie._ _

__Kolivan hums. “Alright. By the way, I’d like to speak with you before you leave, Keith. Come to my office.”_ _

__“Of course,” Keith says, desperately trying not to overreact to the request. It’s just Kolivan, and while he is Keith’s boss, he’s also his mentor and friend. Whatever he has to say can’t be that bad. Probably._ _

__Keith waits until Kolivan has departed before he dares a glance at Lance who is definitely staring at him._ _

__“Don’t fucking say anything.”_ _

__“I didn’t.”_ _

__“You were thinking it though.”_ _

__Lance makes an indignant noise. “Listen, Cranky Pants, you can’t control what I think.”_ _

__“Sorry,” Keith sighs, rubbing his temples. The stress is clearly getting to him because the nausea from this morning is returning and his headache isn’t getting any better. He’s never had a migraine before, but he can’t help but wonder if that’s what this is. His erratic moods, stomach distress, and headache would certainly match up with pre-migraine symptoms. It would also explain why Keith is starting to feel like he’s dying—physically and emotionally._ _

__Keith feels like fucking shit._ _

__“Here man, you look like you need this,” Lance says, dropping a fun size pack of Skittles in front of Keith before retreating to his own desk. The next patient comes in, sparing Keith the need to thank Lance, which is good because somehow Lance giving Keith his favorite candy—one he never shares—is also making Keith want to cry._ _

__He can’t remember the last time he was so damn emotional and he hates it. He fucking hates it._ _

__Scrubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, Keith chokes back a sob and forces himself to push away the confusing feelings swirling inside of him. Instead he focuses on the charts in front of him, ripping open the Skittles and savoring them one at a time as he makes his way through the pile._ _

__By the time Lance is clocking out and shutting off the waiting room lights, Keith’s finally made it through the backlog of patient charts. His headache is somehow worse than ever and his chest feels like he’s stuck on an upside down roller coaster—something he chalks up to nerves about whatever it is Kolivan wants to talk to him about—but his charts are finally fucking done, so at least Keith can breathe._ _

__“You uh, want me to stay?” Lance asks, hands in his pockets and his backpack already hanging off one shoulder._ _

__The offer is kind, but unneeded. It’s probably nothing and if it is something then Keith doesn’t need any witnesses to whatever he might have to deal with. The only person he wants to be near right now is Shiro but Shiro is at home—probably making dinner since Keith is supposed to be home in ten minutes._ _

__“No, man. I’m good.”_ _

__“Okay, if you’re sure,” Lance says, already walking backwards._ _

__“I’m sure.”_ _

__Lance doesn’t wait to be told twice, hightailing it out. Keith doesn’t blame him. It’s a Friday night and Keith desperately wants to run away from work too. Unfortunately that’s not a possibility for him yet. He makes his way to the break room to dig his cell phone out of his duffel bag, shooting off a quick text to Shiro to let him know he will be home late, then makes his way back out into the clinic. The only lights on now are the small one above Keith’s workstation and the light in Kolivan’s office,light flooding out beneath the door._ _

__As he approaches the office, he’s reminded of the first time he knocked on Kolivan’s office door like this. He was just a baby then, sixteen years old and full of hormones and anger—and _fear_. So much had felt unknown then, about his own body and his future._ _

__It unsettles Keith to realize some of those feelings are resurfacing now, not just in memory but in a tangible unease that makes his throat close off._ _

__He knocks twice, waiting for Kolivan to answer and staring at the shadows the light casts on his sneakers._ _

__“Come in.”_ _

__The uneases rises, heat flooding Keith’s chest as adrenaline flows through his veins. He hates it so much he wants to shove his fist into the wall. It’s been so long since he felt so out of control and it’s not fair. He’s worked so hard—so goddamn hard. He’s not sixteen and lost anymore. He’s a grown man with a good future and a stable relationship. He’s got friends he adores and a good job. He has all the things an angry orphan alpha never thought he could have, so he doesn’t understand why he suddenly feels so close to losing them all._ _

__Kolivan smiles as Keith enters, closing his laptop and folding his hands on his desk. “Sit down, Keith.”_ _

__Keith obliges, dropping into the leather chair and barely holding back a groan. His entire body is starting to ache, probably from spending the last eight hours hunched over a desk doing paperwork. Keith really should’ve taken more breaks for stretching._ _

__“How are you doing, Keith?”_ _

__It’s not a question Keith expects, but then again if he looks half as bad as he feels it’s not surprising. Somehow it serves to make him feel worse. He hoped he could hide how crappy he felt until he got a better hold on his emotions._ _

__“I’m fine,” he tries, regretting it when Kolivan frowns._ _

__“You know, I still remember the day I walked into that group home. Most of the other kids were angling to suck up to me—eager for approval from an older alpha. You looked like you might punch me in the face if I looked at you wrong.”_ _

__“I don’t understand,” Keith says._ _

__“You have always been astounding, Keith.”_ _

__Keith doesn’t say anything to that, unsure where the compliment is coming from. “I’m behind on charting and so stressed out I want to cry.”_ _

__The second the words are out he slams his mouth shut. He hadn’t meant to admit that._ _

__“Med school is hard, Keith. It’s incredibly hard. It tests you mentally and emotionally, but you are strong enough. I know you are. You have always been strong enough.”_ _

__The words soothe something in Keith and, feeling his eyes water at the corners, he shoves the heels of his hands into his eyes._ _

__“There was a time I saw myself as your mentor, Keith. It was a position I took a great deal of honor in. But you are not a child anymore—you are a man. And I hope I am not being presumptuous in saying that I believe we are on a more equal field now. I believe we are friends.”_ _

__“We are,” Keith agrees, inhaling a deep breath as he drops his hands._ _

__“Then I hope you will allow me to speak freely, both as a doctor and as your friend.”_ _

__Keith nods, unsure what Kolivan is getting at but trusting him nonetheless. “Yes, of course.”_ _

__“How have you been feeling lately?”_ _

__Keith fights off the urge to answer fine and thinks about it for a moment before he speaks. “Restless? Yeah…restless. Which is stupid because everything is great. I’m not ungrateful for the opportunities I have and—”_ _

__“Keith, I do not think you ungrateful. You may speak freely. I am not judging you.”_ _

__“Okay,” Keith breathes, exhaling a shuddering breath and dropping his gaze to his lap. It’s easier to talk if he’s not looking at Kolivan. “I’ve been having trouble sleeping this week, probably from the stress. Big exam today and everything, you know. And, uh…I’ve had some nausea and weird appetite stuff along with a nasty headache but I’m pretty sure my symptoms could be from a migraine even though I don’t have a medical history of them.”_ _

__Kolian hums. “And Shiro? How are things with Shiro?”_ _

__“Uh…good,” Keith answers, unsure what that has to do with what they’re talking about. “Shiro is…amazing.”_ _

__“You are quite in love with him.”_ _

__It’s a statement not a question and Keith nods as he whispers, “So much.”_ _

__“I thought as much. I was very fond of him when I met him. He is good for you,” Kolivan says. “He is a good man. You do not need my approval if he makes you happy but for what it’s worth, I approve of him. I have never seen you happier. It’s good for an old man’s heart.”_ _

__Keith huffs out a laugh, affection flooding him both for Kolivan and Shiro. “You’re not that old.”_ _

__“Maybe not, but I am no spring chicken. My own bonding was three decades ago. Ulaz and I are long past the new bonding stage. Speaking of which—how is the sex between you two?”_ _

__Keith nearly chokes on his own spit. “Uh—”_ _

__“You do not have to answer if you are uncomfortable, but I can promise you that in the nearly thirty years of working here I have heard more sex-related stories than you can imagine. There is not a single thing you could tell me that would phase me.”_ _

__“The sex is good,” Keith mumbles, unsure why his cock twitches at the mere thought of sex with Shiro. It’s the world’s most inappropriate time to entertain fantasies of fucking Shiro, but apparently not even awkward boners in front of his mentor-slash-friend-slash-boss or having the world’s worst headache is enough to put Keith off the idea of sex with Shiro._ _

__“I’m going to speak candidly, Keith. I have a suspicion but I’d appreciate your complete honesty.”_ _

__Keith nods, unsure how anything could be more candid than his last question._ _

__“Have you been more aroused than usual this week? Any changes the number of times you desire to be intimate with Shiro and knot him?”_ _

__Heat floods Keith’s face and he can only imagine how red in the cheeks he must be. “Wow, uh…no? I think, no? I mean I kind of always want to be with him. He’s…god, he’s so fucking handsome and—” Keith pauses, puffing up his cheeks with air and moving his hands to his lap. He knows it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. He’s a grown man for fuck’s sake—a grown man with the sexiest mate in the world. It’s perfectly normal for him to want to spend as much time as possible fucking._ _

__Still, he’s never said it out loud to anyone but Shiro._ _

__“Of course, I was young once too,” Kolivan laughs, his expression shifting into something unreadable as he leans his elbows on his desk. “Have your courses covered the effects of bonds on heats and ruts yet, Keith?”_ _

__It’s an abrupt subject change, but Keith rolls with it. Kolivan always has a point, even when it’s not immediately clear. “No, that’s fourth year.”_ _

__“Ah, I was afraid of that. I’ve been speaking with the dean about potential amendments to the curriculum. It seems a vast oversight that any med student would wait that long to understand the potential psychological and physical effects. Between you and me, I’ve been petitioning the board of education to change the sex ed curriculum in the high school to add this as well but they insist that abstinence from bonding is the best course. It’s a load of shit.”_ _

__The cursing makes Keith smile. He’s starting to rub off on Kolivan and it’s hilarious to hear him slip in a curse word._ _

__“That’s because state-led sex ed is a joke.”_ _

__Kolivan sighs heavily. “It is. But I apologize for my tirade, I had a point.”_ _

__“It’s not a problem,” Keith says, sitting up a bit straighter, curious to find out where Kolivan is going with all this._ _

__“Keith, you’re in pre-rut.”_ _

__Silence follows his statement, quiet enough Keith is suddenly aware of the sound of his own heart thudding._ _

__“No,” Keith croaks._ _

__“Keith—”_ _

__“No,” he repeats, shaking his head. Keith hates his ruts. They’ve always been fucking awful—painful and lonely, and just thinking about them makes his throat close off. Since he presented at sixteen, Keith’s ruts have _always_ come on his birthday. He’s a textbook case of rut regularity. It’s one of the main reasons Keith hates his birthday with a passion. Days spent clawing at his sheets, chasing an orgasm that brings no satisfaction and crying tears of frustration as he jerked himself off until his cock was as raw and aching as his heart. Keith’s suffered from particularly nasty ruts for as long as he can remember, and just thinking about unexpectedly having another one so close to his last makes bile rise up the back of Keith’s throat._ _

__Worse still, the idea of Shiro seeing him at his absolute worst makes Keith want to walk into the sun. He is supposed to have seven more months to prove to Shiro that he’s a good mate—strong and stable and confident—before Shiro has a chance to see Keith reduced to nothing more than a sobbing, quivering mess._ _

__“Keith, breathe.”_ _

__Keith shakes his head, panic building. He can’t be nearing a rut. He can’t. This will ruin everything. Things are so good with Shiro—so good._ _

__In the short time Keith’s known him, Shiro has become the most important person in his life—not just his mate but his _best friend_. Shiro makes Keith laugh at the end of long days, makes him smile through bone-deep exhaustion and stress. He makes everything more fun and exciting. That’s not to mention how perfect they fit together sexually. He’s not just good for Keith physically but emotionally, settling the quiet roar in Keith’s heart that has always ached for a family._ _

__Shiro is Keith’s family, and he can’t lose him._ _

__“My rut isn’t until October,” he blurts, as if saying it out loud will ensure it’s still the truth._ _

__“Yes, usually,” Kolivan agrees kindly. “But Keith, you are bonded now.”_ _

__“I don’t understand,” Keith whispers, his voice impossibly small even to his own ears._ _

__“No one has ever told you. It is grossly unfair. I blame myself for not speaking with you as soon as you and Shiro bonded, but I thought the possibility was so small and I selfishly did not want to risk ruining your happiness.” Kolivan sighs heavily, and for the first time Keith is aware of just how much older he is. The lamp on the side of his desk casts a shadow across his face as he scrubs a hand over his jaw. “Sometimes when a mated pair is compatible—compatible in every way, Keith—the needs of their secondary gender begin to align.”_ _

__Keith is too shocked to do more than stare. Objectively, he knows what Kolivan is getting at. Emotionally, he’s not even close to accepting what he’s hearing._ _

__“It’s very uncommon, but not impossible. Most people can bond with their mate and live the rest of their lives without their heat and rut cycles being disturbed, but there are enough cases for us to be sure that sometimes, when the mate bond is strong enough and the compatibility high, well,a couple’s heat and rut cycles begin to change. If I’m not mistaken your Shiro will probably have another heat far sooner than he expects, and as much as I know you will not want to hear this, there is a high probability you will have a second rut cycle this year—likely the next one will fall in with Shiro’s heat.”_ _

__Rut. Another rut. Keith can’t think about a second rut when he’s not prepared for the one he’s apparently going to have right now._ _

__“You are panicking.”_ _

__There’s no judgment in Kolivan’s words, but shame still pools in Keith’s gut. He should be able to handle this. He’s an alpha for fuck’s sake. What alpha panics because they’re going to have a rut?_ _

__“There is nothing wrong with you,” Kolivan says._ _

__“What, are you a mind reader now,” Keith snaps, regretting the sharpness in his tone._ _

__Kolivan appears unphased. “No, Keith. I simply know you. I have known you a long time. I know you are afraid. You have had an unfairly hard time with ruts, but you are not alone anymore, Keith. You have Shiro.”_ _

__Shiro. Just thinking about him makes some of the tension in his shoulders bleed away. Keith craves him in every way—wants to bury his face in Shiro’s neck and scent him, wants to bury his cock in him and fuck him until every bit of anxiety leaves him, wants to wrap himself around Shiro and touch him and hold him and mark him._ _

__He wants Shiro so much his body aches with it, and as much as Keith wants to deny Kolivan’s words, he understands now what he’s been feeling. Every single symptom—the sleeplessness, irritability, headaches and nausea—all of them are in line with the weeks leading up to Keith’s rut. He’d missed what was so clearly in front of him because the possibility of his rut hadn’t even occurred to him, but now that it is he can see so clearly the only time the discomfort and pain abated was when he was with Shiro—or watching the video of Shiro jerking off. Apparently his bond with Shiro is strong enough even just looking at his mate is enough to settle the pre-rut needs._ _

__“You should go home, Keith. Go to your omega.”_ _

__“What if it’s too much?” Keith whispers, giving voice to the quiet fear._ _

__“What do you mean?”_ _

__“Just…the ruts are bad. They’ve always been so bad, Kolivan,” Keith mumbles, embarrassed that he’s crying. “What if seeing me like this ruins everything? What if…what if he thinks I’m not a good enough alpha. I should be in control, and strong. Alphas in rut are supposed to just be horny,” he says, unable to bite back his own bitterness. “Then you’ve got me.”_ _

__“There is nothing wrong about you as an alpha, Keith.”_ _

__Keith swipes angrily at the tears in his eyes, thinking back to the way he’d dug his nails into his skin so hard during his last rut he’d needed stitches—his body needing more than rut aids could provide. _An uncommonly intense history of ruts_ is what Keith’s medical file says which is code for _too much_. His ruts are too much to handle. _ _

__He knows what he needs is a lot, it always has been. And he’s always been alone. Keith’s learned to deal with not getting what he needs, of the days of discomfort and longing and sexual frustration. What he can’t deal with is the idea of scaring Shiro—of hurting him._ _

__“If you were not compatible, your body would not be doing this. I know it might be scary now, but Keith—this is a gift. There are so few alphas in the world who will ever know what it’s like to share a heat cycle with their omega. This is a precious gift.”_ _

__“Well, I want to return the fucking gift,” Keith snaps. He needs to be in control during Shiro’s heats. His most recent heat—also his first—had been so intense. But Keith was lucky enough to be there, to have Shiro trust him to take care of him. Nothing in the world had ever felt better than being allowed to help Shiro through his heat. Physically, it was the best sex of Keith’s life. Emotionally, it was the most _right_ Keith had ever felt as an alpha._ _

__He likes taking care of his omega—he _needs_ to take care of him. He’s not sure how the fuck he can do that if he’s out of his mind with arousal and some primal biological urge for he doesn’t even know what._ _

__Keith’s ruts are painful and intense and always leave him feeling out of control. It absolutely fucking terrifies him._ _

__“Perhaps I should call Shiro.”_ _

__“No,” Keith blurts, shaking his head._ _

__“Keith, you cannot keep this from him. He deserves to know and you—you deserve to have a good rut. Your ruts have not been kind to you, and as much as you pretend otherwise I know there’s a lot of trauma wrapped up in them.” The words make the tears fall from Keith’s eyes and he doesn’t bother trying to hide them as Kolivan continues. “ You need to trust your body, Keith. It knows what you need and that is Shiro. What you need is your omega.”_ _

__His omega. Just hearing the words pushes away some of his unease._ _

__“Trust Shiro.”_ _

__“He’s never shared a rut with anyone,” Keith sniffles, suddenly feeling sixteen and scared all over again._ _

__“No, he hasn’t. And before Shiro you had never shared a heat. But you knew, did you not? I believe your exact words to me were _I felt born for it_. You knew how to take of your mate because you trusted yourself. You need to do that now, and trust that Shiro will too. He is an omega, his heart will be calling for him to take care of you too. I believe if he knew how you felt right now, he’d been risking a ticket on that death trap motorcycle of his to get to you.”_ _

__“His motorcycle is sexy,” Keith laughs, scrubbing away the tears on his cheeks. It’s hard to refute Kolivan’s words when they _feel_ like the truth. Maybe it’s wishful thinking, maybe he really will be too much for Shiro._ _

__But maybe he won’t. It’s enough hope for Keith to cling to._ _

__“Ah, to be young and stupid,” Kolivan says with enough fondness in his tone for Keith to know he doesn’t mean it—mostly. “Now, back to the matter at hand. I will drive you home and take care of your Secondary Gender Assistance Act paperwork so it can be filed as soon as possible. I don’t want to hear a word from you unless you are in need of help for a week. Lance and I can hold down the clinic, and once the paperwork is filed your professors will automatically be notified of the situation and provide adequate accommodations for notes and exams. You will talk to Shiro and you will rest.”_ _

__Keith exhales slowly. It feels nice right now to not have to plan or think. “Is that all?”_ _

__“Just one other thing. Try to enjoy your rut. I know yours have been painful. It is not easy with PAS. I know it is not something you have ever been completely comfortable with, but it is part of who you are, Keith, and there is no shame in it. We took a natural biological difference and made it problematic when it’s not.”_ _

__Keith swallows around the sudden lump in his throat. _PAS: Primary Alpha Syndrome_ —the diagnosis he’d been given after being discharged from the rut clinic after his first horrible rut. A word synonymous with alphas who were _too_ alpha—too much testosterone, too much of their alpha pheromones, too much everything. Despite the advances in medicine and the new understanding about what it meant to have such drastic excesses of the testosterone, especially during ruts, most of society held on to their antiquated stereotypes and saw alphas like Keith as unfit to mate, unfit for social work, unfit for almost everything apparently._ _

__It’d taken Keith years and a lot of therapy to understand that just because the world narrowed down the way they saw him to the stupid hormones in his body didn’t mean that was all there was to him. It was a large part of why Keith is so determined to become a doctor. He knows it’s unusual for alphas to seek positions at heat and rut clinics, and even more so one with PAS. Keith wants to break the stigmas, to show other people that while their secondary gender might be a huge aspect of who they are, it is not what defines them. He also desperately wants to offer hope and support to other kids like him who’ve never been told they can be anything, who aren’t used to getting fair and equal access to healthcare._ _

__He’s spent his life railing against stupid second gender stereotypes and his own body. His ruts were damn near unbearable without a mate, but it never occurred to Keith that he might ever find anyone who could handle him—or would want to. Until Shiro. He’d taken one look at Shiro in the coffee shop and nearly tripped over his own feet. Finding out Shiro is an omega was a sweet surprise, though Keith knows he’d have liked him just as much regardless. But he’s hard pressed to deny that on the most basic biological level, everything about Shiro calls to Keith._ _

__Shiro hadn’t even balked at Keith’s confession about the whole primary alpha thing when he’d told him over breakfast a few days after they’d bonded. Shiro simply looked Keith up and down like he was the sexiest thing alive and winked, whispering _I can handle you_. No one in Keith’s life had reacted like that to the news, and it’d done something funny to Keith’s heart to imagine a world where his diagnosis wasn’t just tolerated, but appreciated. Because that was the thing about Shiro—he seemed to appreciate everything about Keith, even the hyperfocused and intense parts of him that could be too abrasive for other people._ _

__Shiro is just as headstrong as Keith, just as stubborn and just as fiercely competitive. Being with Shiro is thrilling and exciting, and for the first time in Keith’s life he’d found someone he didn’t feel like he might be too much for._ _

__Until now._ _

__Shiro’s accepted every little thing about Keith, eagerly soaking up all he learns about him as if it’s some sort of gift to be allowed to get to know Keith. But this—a rut—this might be the thing that proves to be too much. There’s a big fucking difference between a post-heat Shiro being unfailingly kind and flirty, and facing the prospect of not only sharing his first rut with an alpha but with an alpha like Keith—an alpha prime._ _

__“Keith.”_ _

__He darts his head up, trying to shake off the insecurity clawing its way up. “Yeah?”_ _

__“May I take you home now?”_ _

___Home_. Home to Shiro. Home to his omega._ _

__The thought alone is enough to make adrenaline course through his veins and his cock twitch with desire. Keith wants Shiro so much it’s a tangible ache in his bones. By the time his rut fully hits it won’t just be a want, he will _need_ Shiro like he needs air to breathe—need to fuck and mark and then fuck some more. It’s a horrible fucking dichotomy to want to run away from these feelings just so he doesn't risk ruining things, while also being painfully aware that the only person in the world who can possibly make Keith feel better right now is Shiro._ _

__He closes his eyes, breathing deep as he thinks about Shiro. When he opens them a moment later, it’s with certainty. No matter how afraid he is right now, there’s only one place he wants to be._ _

__“Yes, it’s time to go home.”_ _


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which there is a lot of filth and some comfort. But don't worry there's even more comfort in the last chapter, I promise ;)

Keith’s barely even aware of the drive home. He’s not sure if he says more than two words to Kolivan, and he’s pretty sure he forgets to even say goodbye. The only thoughts his brain is capable of are ones about Shiro—about his mate. By the time Keith’s sliding his key into their front door his hands are shaking and he feels like he might throw up. Opening the door makes that feeling intensify.

“Keith, is that you?” Shiro yells. Judging by the sound of his voice and the smells in their apartment he’s in the kitchen.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me,” Keith answers, managing to keep his tone neutral as he kicks off his shoes by the shoe rack and drops his stuff by the door. “I’m gonna shower, I smell like the clinic.”

“Okay, hurry up I miss you,” Shiro yells.

His words pierce Keith’s heart. There’s nothing he wants more than to run straight to Shiro and scent him but he needs a few minutes to collect himself so he doesn’t burst into tears at the first sight of him. On some level Keith knows he isn’t going to lose Shiro. There’s not a person in the world more kind or understanding than Shiro and he’s the last person in the world who would ever judge Keith for having intense ruts or being a hot mess. Keith knows this.

Unfortunately, there’s a disconnect between what his brain knows to be true and the fear rattling in his chest.

 _Too much. You’re too much_ the little voice yells. He tries to drown it out by letting the scalding hot shower water pelt down over his head. All it does is get water in his ears and make him long for warmth of a different kind. He ends up hastily scrubbing himself clean, eager for Shiro to smell _him_ and not the weird antiseptic smell he always reeks of after a shift at the clinic.

When he exits the shower, he goes straight for Shiro’s t-shirt thrown on the end of the bed, tugging it over his head. The v neck is so deep it nearly slips off his shoulder, the cotton thin and soft and the scent of Shiro still clinging to it. He fists his hand in it, lifting the hem and inhaling Shiro’s scent, embarrassed at the way his eyes water and his cock goes hard. The rut is getting closer. It’s never come on this fast, but Keith can feel the approach—can feel the need growing.

Unable to stay away from Shiro a moment longer, he yanks on a pair of clean boxers and makes his way out of their bedroom and towards the kitchen. Shiro’s got the TV. on low in the living room with a movie he’s seen half a dozen times and it draws a smile from Keith. Shiro hates quiet, and Keith’s grown to find the background noise Shiro prefers comforting. 

He pauses in the archway, catching sight of Shiro drying a mixing bowl. He’s wearing nothing but his pajama bottoms—a ridiculous pair with planets on them—as he swipes a dish towel over the bowl. The countertop is a mess of measuring cups and dishes, some clean but most not. There’s flour all over the floor and on Shiro’s cheek, and that’s when Keith realizes what Shiro is doing.

“You’re baking,” he whispers, unsure why it makes his throat feel too small.

“I mean, I’m trying to,” Shiro laughs, turning to lean his hip against the counter as he gifts Keith a wide smile. “The recipe swore the pie crust was easy enough for even a child, but maybe I’m worse in the kitchen then I thought.”

Pie.

_Pie._

“What kind of pie, Shiro?”

Shiro’s smile widens. He looks so goddamn pleased with himself that it makes Keith’s heart feel too big for his chest. “Cherry.”

Keith’s knees go weak as he remembers his conversation with Shiro from last week.

_”Will you tell me something about you?” Shiro asks hopefully, pushing the hair back off Keith’s face. “Something from when you were a kid maybe?”_

Shiro is always doing that, trying to get to know Keith, eager to learn everything he can, and storing away every tidbit Keith shares as if it’s something precious—as if Keith’s something precious. He never pushes though, which is exactly what makes it so easy to talk to him. It was strange for Keith to find it easier to share things with Shiro he’d never shared even with Kolivan or Lance, but that’s the thing about loving Shiro—it makes Keith want to open up, even when it makes him feel small and vulnerable.

_”My dad used to cook a lot. Before…before he died. I remember this one day I came from school and dad was there in the kitchen making a pie—cherry pie. It wasn’t like a birthday or a holiday or anything either. It was just a random Tuesday you know? So I asked him why go to so much trouble and he said ‘Because the normal days are worth celebrating, son’. It was the last time he ever made me pie,” Keith whispers, voice quivering. “I’ve tried store bought pie sometimes, when I really miss him, but it’s not the same as homemade.”_

The memories of his dad were something Keith had never shared with anyone, not even Lance or Kolivan. They were his and his alone and he guarded them tightly, unwilling to share them. At least until he met Shiro.

And now Shiro is here in _their home_ trying to make Keith a cherry pie because Keith was brave enough to share his story, and somehow it didn’t make Shiro love him less, it made Shiro love him more.

Keith doesn’t even realize he’s crying again until Shiro frowns.

“Shit, is this bad? Should I not have? I thought—shit, shit. I can throw it away. We can pretend I didn’t do this. To be honest, it probably doesn’t even taste good anyway, I’ve never actually made a pie and there were so many ingredients and so many steps there’s a good chance I fucked something up and—”

He doesn’t let Shiro finish, just moves across the room embarrassingly fast to slam himself into Shiro.

“Oh.”

“Thank you,” Keith mumbles, embarrassed and emotional and unsure what the fuck to do with himself.

“Oh, Keith,” Shiro says, one hand on his lower back and the other coming around to rest at the back of his neck. “I love you.”

It’s exactly what Keith needs to hear, and it feels almost unfair that someone as good and kind and patient as Shiro might love him. He’s not sure what he’s done to deserve someone like Shiro.

“Long day at the clinic?” Shiro asks, sliding his finger beneath the long hairs at the back of Keith’s neck to stroke against the flesh. The metal fingers are cool against Keith’s skin, which isstill hot from his shower and the changes in his body. It feels good, so good.

“Yes,” Keith answers, unable to explain just yet.

“Do you wanna talk about it? Or not talk about it? Or—” the timer beeps, making Shiro turn his head. “Oh, I gotta get the pie.”

Keith whines when Shiro tries to pull away, the idea of Shiro moving even an inch away from him unthinkable. This is his mate, his omega—he wants him.

“Keith,” Shiro laughs, completely unaware of what’s happening. It feels unfair that alphas don’t put off the same scent changes during rut like omegas do. When Shiro had been in heat Keith could smell it immediately—the sweetness thickening the air. Maybe it hadn’t actually made it easier for Shiro to tell Keith what was going on, but right now Keith wishes Shiro could just smell him and know so that he didn’t have to submit to the mortifying ordeal of being known through the arduous task of being known all on his own and actually say the words out loud.

“The pie’s going to burn, babe” Shiro says, patting Keith’s ass as he extracts himself from Keith’s hold.

It’s only a lifetime of experience in denying himself the things he needs that stops him from attaching himself to Shiro’s back like a leech. Instead he stands there and waits, nails digging into the palms of his hands as he watches Shiro bend over to retrieve the pie, cradling it lovingly between his ridiculous Star Wars oven mitts.

“Wow, I didn’t burn the pie, or burn the house down. Look at me being amazing,” Shiro laughs, clearly pleased with himself. “Although for the record, if you want I’ll dump the pie in the trash right now.”

As if to further prove his point, Shiro steps on the foot pedal of the trash can so the lid opens.

“Whatever you want, sweetheart.”

That’s the thing too, Keith knows he means it. He knows if he asked Shiro to do it, that he would just throw the whole pie away, no questions or hard feelings—not that Keith would ever do that. Shiro is always so patient and understanding, and Keith knows he should just tell him what’s going on but it’s surprisingly difficult. 

The fear of being too much is big.

His trust in Shiro however is ever bigger.

Because that’s what it comes down to—he trusts Shiro. He trusts him so much. And right now, Keith needs to fight against all his instincts screaming at him to hide before he’s too much and trust that Shiro might be able to love this side of him too.

“Shiro, I’m in rut.”

The look on Shiro’s face would be funny, if Keith didn’t feel so much like throwing up. Keith’s never seen him look so surprised, and it’s a damn cute look on him—like everything. For a few seconds he just stands there frozen, trash can open and a scalding hot pie held between his oven mitt hands. Then all at once reality seems to crash down on Shiro who stumbles backward, thunking the pie down on the counter hard enough that some of the cherry pie filling squirts out the side.

Shiro shakes off the oven mitts off in such a haste they go flying to the floor. In a move so unlike Shiro, who likes things clean and orderly, he leaves them on the floor, rushing to Keith’s side and cupping his cheeks in his hands. They’re warm from the pie and Keith can’t repress a sigh as he closes his eyes and basks in the warmth.

“A rut,” he breathes, sounding shocked. “How? I thought—but, how?”

Keith huffs, rubbing his cheek into Shiro’s palm a few times before grabbing at Shiro’s wrist and bringing it to his nose. Before he answers he rubs his nose against the delicate underside, mouthing at the vein beneath his pale skin. Shiro’s scent blossoms at the action and Keith’s cock hardens, hidden only by Shiro’s massively oversized hoodie.

It takes Keith a minute or so before he feels capable of answers, and even when he does he keeps Shiro’s wrist near his face, desperately needing his scent to keep him grounded. The rut is coming on faster than ever, and if Keith doesn’t get this out now he’s not sure he will be able to.

“Apparently we’re so compatible our heats and ruts are trying to align,” Keith says, panting as he mouths at Shiro’s pulse point. It’d be easier to talk if he stopped but he doesn’t want to stop, he wants to feel the flutter of Shiro’s pulse against his tongue as he breathes in his scent.

“Oh,” Shiro whispers.

“I said our heats and ruts are trying to align,” Keith repeats, unsure if Shiro didn’t understand his meaning since he isn’t freaking out. “We’re both going to have extra ones until ours match up and then we’ll share them.”

“Okay,” Shiro says, taking the confession in stride and accepting it far easier than Keith had when Kolivan told him.

Keith pauses as he drags his gaze to Shiro’s face, lips grazing against Shiro’s wrist as he whispers, “You’re not upset?”

“No,” Shiro answers, so much certainty in his voice that Keith doesn’t need to wonder if he means it. “It’s kind of exciting, to be honest. I mean, I’m a little nervous about another heat but I won’t be alone so I’m not scared this time.”

Pride envelops Keith. He did that—he made Shiro feel safe.

“I’ll take care of you,” Keith declares, fingers tightening around Shiro’s wrist.

“I know you will,” Shiro says, leaning forward to kiss Keith’s forehead. He brings his other hand up to cup the back of Keith’s head, thumb stroking Keith’s scalp as Shiro rubs his cheek against Keith’s hair. “You smell nice.”

“I used your shampoo,” Keith mumbles, unsure how just knowing his smell is pleasing to his mate is enough to have Keith feeling weak in the knees. It’s nothing new, Shiro’s always generous with his praise, but this is something else entirely.

“Mmm, smells better on you,” Shiro says, rubbing his face into Keith’s hair as he inhales his scent. He lets out a little sigh of happiness and a rush of pleasure floods Keith’s body so intense he doesn’t realize he’s let out a moan until Shiro pulls back to look at him.

“Sorry,” Keith mumbles, heat flooding his cheeks. “I think…it’s the rut.”

“You like knowing how good you smell to me?” Shiro asks, fingers sliding into Keith’s hair to tug him close. 

Keith lets him, falling against his chest. Immediately he shoves his face into Shiro’s neck and rubs his nose against the scent glands. “Yes.”

“What else do you like?” Shiro asks, fingers smoothing against his scalp. “What can I do that’ll make your rut good?”

The question is innocent enough, but it sends a twang of fear through Keith. He tries to fight it off, tries to relax himself by focusing on Shiro’s scent, but it doesn’t work. The more he scents Shiro the more aware he is of his impending rut—arousal and a primal sort of need clawing its way up his spine.

“Keith?”

He inhales deeply, eyes still screwed shut. He’s told Shiro in vague terms that he’s had some bad ruts, but he’s always avoided going into details—avoided explaining how achingly lonely and painful they were. He’s never wanted to taint their relationship with his trauma. He thought he had more time. He wants more time to make good memories with Shiro before this in case it doesn’t go well, in case his rut is too much even for Shiro.

“Hey, sweetheart, talk to me,” Shiro murmurs, resting his cheek atop Keith’s head.

“My ruts are bad,” Keith mumbles, trying to hide his face in Shiro’s neck.

Fingers smooth through his hair, gentle and soothing. “How bad?”

“Bad,” Keith answers.

“What can I do?”

Keith chokes back a sob. It’s such a Shiro response.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” Keith whispers, unable to hide the fear in his voice.

“You’d never hurt me, Keith.”

The amount of faith Shiro has in Keith never fails to surprise him, but he’s not sure he deserves it.

“You don’t know that,” Keith objects. “The ruts…I need….I need—”

Frustration wells up in Keith that he can’t get the words out. He wants to. He wants to trust Shiro with this, but it’s so fucking hard.

“Let’s go to the bedroom,” Shiro says, planting one more kiss on Keith’s head before tapping his hip. Keith doesn’t object, falling in step beside Shiro. Words are hard, but this—letting his hand find purchase in Shiro’s as they make their way to their bedroom—this is easy. 

Shiro sits on the bed first, a gentle tug on Keith’s hand to urge him to follow. Keith does, collapsing on the bed beside Shiro, their knees pressed together and Keith’s hand in Shiro’s lap. He can’t help but think Shiro was on to something. It’s harder for Keith to feel nervous here. This is their bedroom— _theirs_. Their scents are mixed, their clothes are hanging side by side in the closet, and their toothbrushes are in the same cup in the bathroom. The whole apartment is theirs, but the bedroom is something else—something private and quiet where the rest of the world fades away. This is the place where they’ve laid side by side talking into the night with their heads resting on the same pillow. This is where they fuck—sometimes slow, sometimes fast, but always with an intensity that leaves Keith aching.

“Do you want to tell me?” Shiro asks, his thumb rubbing circles on the back of Keith’s hand. It’s a question, not a demand, and it makes all the difference.

“I, uh…I know I’ve told you my ruts weren’t great but I never—I didn’t wanna say just how bad.” He pauses, taking a steadying break. “Usually I have to spend them at a rut clinic. _A uniquely intense case_ is what they call me,” Keith laughs derisively. It’s not funny. 

Shiro remains quiet, his eyes sad, but there’s no judgment in his silence. “I’m sorry, Keith.”

Keith shrugs. “Not your fault. No one’s fault. Just…is what it is.”

“Still,” Shiro whispers, giving Keith’s hand a gentle squeeze.

It’s the lack of pity that tears down the last of Keith’s walls. He doesn’t hold back as he begins to share stories of his past ruts and the fear and isolation. He doesn’t sugarcoat the truth when he talks about the way it made him feel out of control, his voice quivering as he talks about the broken rut aids that couldn’t satisfy him, and the way the arousal and need to claim with nowhere to focus his attentions sometimes led to accidentally hurting himself. He never did it on purpose, but sometimes when the pain got too bad and there was no release things bubbled over.

Maybe, he thinks, if he can shock Shiro enough now the reality of his hut won’t be as jarring.

Shame builds, his stomach churning as he talks and talks, laying it out in such detail he feels raw. By the time he’s finished speaking, his heart is racing and he feels like he might throw up.

“So, yeah,” Keith tries to laugh. It sounds more like a sob. “Now you know.”

Shiro opens his mouth then closes it. The hesitation is enough for Keith to feel the need to fill the silence.

“Look, if it’s too much you can tell me okay. It’d be a lot for anyone to handle and this is—we’re still new. It won’t change anything between us, okay?” Keith says, unsure how to handle Shiro’s silence this time.

“ _Keith_.”

There’s suddenly not enough oxygen in their room. 

“I can check into the rut clinic. It’s where I normally spend my ruts. It’s okay, promise,” he says, feet hitting the floor as he rises on the bed. He’s only made it half a step before Shiro’s fingers are wrapping around his wrist.

“Please.”

“Please what?” Keith asks, afraid to hope.

“Please stay.”

There’s nothing in the world that could stop Keith from giving Shiro what he wants, not even Keith’s own insecurity.

“I’ll need a lot,” Keith whispers, eyes drawn down to where Shiro’s fingers are wrapped around his wrist. He’s touching Keith so gently, all it would take was a little tug and his hand would fall from Shiro’s grasp. “I’m going to need to fuck you. Almost constantly for a while. And, uh…probably gonna want you to just lay there. I get a lot of pent up energy and I need to direct it somewhere.”

“What else?” Shiro asks.

“My rut fog is bad. If you, uh, if you need to talk to me I’m probably not going to be able to focus. It’s not like with your heat, it’s not just about arousal, it’s something else—something more primal. It’s like my brain stops understanding how the world works and I just need.”

“What do you need, Keith?” Shiro asks, tugging Keith to stand between the V of his spread legs.

“You,” Keith utters, mesmerized by the sweep of Shiro’s dark lashes against the rise of his cheekbone when he blinks. He’s so unfairly beautiful. “I’m going to need you. And it’s going to be a lot. I want to fuck you, Shiro. I want to fuck you until you’re screaming my name. I need to know you’re mine. I want you trembling and quivering. I want your body covered in marks I put there. I want to mark you with my mouth and my come so that every inch of you is marked by my scent, by my lips. I’m not gonna be able to let you out of my sight. And because it’s the first rut since we mated, there’s a chance…just—the urges might be even stronger. The pull to claim you as my omega, to know body and soul that you’re mine it’s…I know it’s a lot.”

Keith swallows down the rush of emotions. He’s said the words and there’s no taking them back.

For a brief moment Shiro is silent. Keith’s learned to appreciate that about Shiro. For all his adrenaline-seeking and stubbornness, he’s calm and patient when it matters. He’s not hot-headed and impulsive like Keith, and it grounds him to know that Shiro will always be there offering his stability and love.

When Shiro’s lip quirks up in the corner, Keith’s sure it’s a mistake.

It’s not. It grows and grows until Shiro is grinning like the Cheshire cat, his thumb pressed against Keith’s pulse point. “Are you telling me you’re gonna want me to spend the next twenty-four hours being a pillow princess while you worship me?”

“Well when you say it like that,” Keith mumbles, cheeks warming.

“When I say it like that it sounds fucking amazing,” Shiro grins, tugging him harder so that Keith collapses into his lap. “You gonna fuck me good? You gonna remind me who I belong to, Keith?”

Shiro bares his neck, the bond mark fading but visible. It sends a surge of arousal and possessiveness through Keith so intense he goes breathless, a groan of desire falling from his lips. Shiro is _his_ omega.

“I don’t wanna hurt you,” he says, pressing his hands on Shiro’s shoulders and pushing him back onto the mattress. The desire rises in him to touch Shiro, to please him, but he’s still afraid.

“I’m a big boy. I can handle it,” Shiro insists, his pale white hair falling back against the dark red sheets. “I promise if anything really hurts, I’m strong enough to stop it. But that won’t happen. I trust you,” Shiro says, arms behind his head. He’s putting himself on display for Keith and it’s sexy as fuck.

The ease with which Shiro is taking the surprise rut, and his obvious excitement, helps to settle Keith’s nerves. It’s hard to worry about being too much when Shiro looks so goddamn eager to have his brains fucked out.

“Baby, you’re looking a little smug,” Keith laughs, trailing his fingers across Shiro’s belly.

If possible, Shiro’s grin widens—sweet and unmistakably happy.

“I mean, my sexy-as-fuck doctor boyfriend just told me he likes me _so_ much I made his rut season change, and now he’s basically promised to give me the absolute fucking of my life. I think anyone with two brain cells would be pretty excited right now.”

Air fills Keith’s lungs, his chest puffing up with pride. He makes his omega feel good. His omega wants him.

“You’re a smug fucker, you know that,” Keith grins, nails dragging down the dark trail of hair that leads beneath Shiro’s waistband.

“Mhmm,” Shiro hums, wiggling his hips. “My boyfriend is smart and sexy, I’m allowed to be smug.”

Warmth floods Keith’s chest. Even in his cockier moments, Shiro somehow manages to find a way to compliment Keith and the attention is heady.

“Yeah, you’re sexy aren’t you?” Shiro smirks, the pads of his fingers skimming the side of Keith’s hand which is slipping beneath Shiro’s waistband.

“Not as sexy as you,” Keith grumbles, his arousal building as Shiro lifts his hips so Keith can shimmy his sleep pants off. “Fuck, you’re not wearing underwear.”

A soft laugh rumbles out of Shiro’s chest. “Lets just say I was hoping to get lucky tonight.”

Lucky. Keith is the lucky one. Not even in his wildest dreams did he ever let himself hope for this—not just a lover but a best friend. He cannot believe he gets to spend the rest of his life with the man in his bed, laughing and fucking and just experiencing all the highs and lows life has to offer. As Shiro kicks his sleeps pants to the floor , one thought rises above all the rest—fucking.

Keith wants to fuck Shiro.

He needs to fuck Shiro.

“Like what you see?” Shiro smirks, cocking his right leg to the side and jutting his hip. It puts his lower half on full display—his cock hard and the foreskin retracted. The tip glistens with a drop of pre-come, a hint of how turned on Shiro is just from the idea of being fucked. It makes Keith’s own cock throb with desire as his eyes roam down the length of Shiro’s cock, admiring the slight curve and the pink flush, and his mouth waters at the sight of the base nestled in Shiro’s dark curls.

Instead of answering, Keith drops down, shoving his face into Shiro’s lower belly and closing his eyes as he inhales deeply. Shiro’s scent is muskier here and his treasure trail tickles Keith’s nose as he shamelessly rubs his face into Shiro’s crotch and breathes deeply.

The action makes Shiro moan, his legs spreading wider and his hips shifting. “I’m so hard for you. Can you smell what you do to me? Can you smell how horny I am for you, how much I want it—how much I want you?”

Keith grabs ahold of Shiro’s hips—his finger digging into the flesh as he rubs his nose into the thick patch of curls at the base of his cock. He’s aware of Shiro starting to whine as his cock bobs against Keith’s chin but Keith can’t stop smelling him, flooding his system with pleasure—the thick scent of his omega’s arousal like a shot of straight serotonin.

A tingling sensation starts at the base of his spine and Keith closes his eyes, aware of what’s coming. Except it doesn’t come.

There’s no pain shooting through his limbs, no hollow ache in his gut.

Instead, the tingling spreads throughout his body, lighting up every one of his nerve endings in a way that feels, well— _good_. 

“You’re teasing me,” Shiro gasps, lifting his hips just enough that his cock rubs against Keith’s cheek. There’s wetness at the tip of Shiro’s cock, a second indication of how much he wants this. “Thought…thought you were gonna fuck me.”

Keith doesn’t immediately respond, his bottom lip between his teeth as he noses against Shiro and soaks up his scent as it sweetens. Keith doesn’t need to finger Shiro’s ass to know he’s begun to leak. He’s already aching for it—aching to be filled.

“Keith,” Shiro moans as Keith purposely rubs his check against Shiro’s cock. He wasn’t teasing him before, but he is now.

His rut is building, Keith is sure of it, and the closer it comes, the more the need to please his omega takes center stage. He wants to hear Shiro beg, wants to smell him dripping with slick as he begs to be filled. He wants to ruin Shiro, wants him boneless and screaming with pleasure as Keith’s come drips out of him.

There’s a buzz under Keith’s skin as he pictures Shiro filled with come, adrenaline coursing through his veins as his arousal builds.

“Wanna fill you. Want you so full of my cock and my knot and my come you can barely breathe. I want you begging for more as my come drips out of you.”

Shiro throws his head back and moans. 

The temptation to roll Shiro over and mount him is staggering. Keith resists, if only because he knows his stamina will far outlast Shiro’s. He needs to tire himself out first. He needs to fuck Shiro in other ways so that when it’s time to knot him, Shiro is ready to be fucked and can take Keith’s knot easily. Keith’s only knotted him one other time since Shiro’s heat. It’s not always easy, and it takes a lot of prep when Shiro isn’t in heat to make sure he can take something so big without it hurting. Keith needs him to take it tonight. He needs to see Shiro writhing on his knot and begging for more.

He needs it.

Fuck, he needs it.

The base of his cock tingles, the urge to knot growing. Keith’s rut fog hasn’t taken over yet, so he knows he needs to wait. He needs to pace himself.

He needs to make Shiro feel good.

Unlike previous ruts, the growing arousal and need is not accompanied by an equally large amount of discomfort. There’s no prickling up his legs, no tears at the corners of his eyes as he thinks about being alone, because he’s not alone. He’s used to the onset of his rut making him feel like he got hit by a bus, but all he feels now is horny—really fucking horny. 

In fact, Keith feels fucking amazing.

Kolivan’s words from their car ride over come to mind. _Your body, more than even a typical alpha, craves a mate—a grounding force to balance you. I can’t promise you it will be different now that you are bonded, but I believe it will._

At the time Keith had disregarded Kolivan’s words as more of a pep talk to give Keith confidence rather than truthful statements, and half-tuned him out as Kolivan went into a long spiel about some research study he read about in _The American Journal of Secondary Genders_ and how the newest research indicated that omega pheromones acted as a pain blockers for mated alphas. Something to do with increased sensitivity of the sensory receptors and a hyperactive endocrine system. It’s something Keith wants to know more about. Later.

Right now all he wants is Shiro.

“I’m gonna fuck you all right,” Keith groans, nipping at Shiro’s lower belly. 

“I’m waiting,” Shiro gasps, somehow managing to sound both impatient and confident all at once. 

Keith nearly comes in his boxers. Shiro’s always hot, but something about him like this—demanding and unashamed about how much he wants to get fucked—makes Keith feel insane. Shiro isn’t shy about how much he loves cock—in his mouth, up his ass, his big hands full.

He nearly pushes Shiro’s knees against his chest and slides in. He doesn’t need to get a finger in Shiro’s ass to know how ready he is, the scent of his slick filling the air. Keith’s still not used to it, still awed and honored that a few touches from Keith or a few sweet words can have Shiro’s body readying itself for him. It’s a powerful feeling to know how much his omega trusts him, and especially how hot Shiro finds him.

That’s another thing Shiro isn’t shy about, sending a wolf whistle or a word of praise in Keith’s direction. It doesn’t matter if Keith’s spent forty minutes trying to flatten his stupid cowlick and dressed to impress for date night or rolling out of bed in a scraggly pair of boxers and a t-shirt with holes, Shiro always looks at him like he’s the most desirable person on the planet.

He’s doing it now, his eyes wide and hungry as they trail over Keith’s body. It makes Keith breath in a little deeper, his shoulders going back and his lungs swelling with pride. There was a time Keith had worried about his slim stature and how unalpha-like he looks. He doesn’t now. It’s impossible to feel anything but sexy with the way Shiro’s spreading his legs as slick drips out of his ass. He’s so turned on just from looking at Keith.

An idea takes shape in Keith’s mind—a brilliant idea.

“Baby,” Keith whispers, feeling the tendrils of rut fog creeping in. “Baby, open your mouth.”

For all his competitive drive and cockiness, it still sometimes shocks Keith when Shiro doesn’t push back—when he follows Keith’s orders without a word and lets Keith take the lead. It’s not about power or dominance, but trust. Because that’s what it comes down to, Shiro trusts Keith. 

The beating of his heart increases—powerful and loud—as he crawls up Shiro’s body.

Shiro’s eyes widen as Keith moves higher, setting himself high on Shiro’s chest with his cock resting against the hollow of Shiro’s throat. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Shiro whispers, his eyes intense as they sweep over Keith’s face.

It makes the arousal flare. He loves when Shiro looks at him, loves how free Shiro is with his praise and appreciation.

“Mine,” Keith murmurs, his hands shaking with the force of his self-control.

“Yours,” Shiro agrees, the rumble of the words reverberating against Keith’s fingertips as he drags them over Shiro’s bottom lip, watching the way the pale pink inside of his mouth is exposed when Keith pulls it down.

Keith breathes slowly, unsure when their breathing got so loud. If he focuses hard enough he can even hear the erratic thrum of Shiro’s heartbeat—his rut already heightening his senses.

It’s overwhelming to want so much, his thoughts getting twisted and fuzzy. He knows he had an idea, but suddenly it’s hard to remember what that was. All he can do is feel—the plush softness of Shiro’s lips as he spreads his mouth open, the quiet way Shiro’s breath hitches and the erotic sound of his heart rate increasing because of Keith.

Shiro’s saying something, his mouth moving as Keith fingers his lips, but Keith can’t make sense of the words. Shiro seems to understand because he stops talking, bringing his hand up and settling at the base of Keith’s spine as he opens his mouth wider. If he’s confused about Keith’s sudden fascination with his mouth he doesn’t say it, just keeps his eyes on Keith as Keith slides two fingers into Shiro’s mouth and moans when Shiro sucks on them. Shiro’s mouth is a thing of beauty, and Keith rocks his hips, his cock dripping pre-come on the side of Shiro’s neck as he presses against Shiro’s tongue.

It feels so good. It’s just his fingers but fuck, it feels good. It’s not until Shiro brings his other hand up to touch Keith’s cock, directing it towards his mouth that Keith realizes how good that would feel too.

 _Yes_ , he thinks. That was the idea. Fucking Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s got such a pretty mouth.

Once Keith shifts, Shiro smiles around his fingers before he opens his mouth. Keith pulls his fingers out, wrapping them around his cock as he shuffles forward, knees on either side of Shiro’s face and his cock dangling above him.

Shiro’s mouth opens wide eagerly, trying to swallow it but Keith pulls it back, curling his fingers around the cockhead and dragging it over slowly across Shiro’s lips, mesmermized by the drop of his pre-come that wets Shiro’s bottom lip. Beneath him Shiro trembles, and the small amount of self-restraint Keith possesses crumbles. He’s not sure why he’s going slow. His mate is right here. His mate wants his cock, and Keith should give his mate what he wants.

Without warning Keith settles himself down to sit on Shiro’s face, the length of his cock slipping into Shiro’s willing mouth. Shiro moans loudly, as if he’s the one having his cock sucked, his eyes fluttering shut and his dark lashes visible as he sucks.

Keith has never been so fucking glad that Shiro doesn’t have a gag reflex.

At first Keith tries to hold himself back, bracing his weight against the headboard and trying not to thrust too hard. As Shiro sucks hard, clearly trying to take Keith’s cock down his throat, Keith hesitates, his arms beginning to tremble with the force of holding back. He wants so badly to bury himself in Shiro’s mouth, wants Shiro so full of his cock even the sounds of his moans will be muffled by his mouth being full. But he’s scared. 

The rut fog is coming on fast. Keith can literally feel himself slipping in and out of it. The pull to let go, to not fight, is so strong. 

His omega is beneath him, his scent filling the room. Most of the time it’s Shiro who picks up on scent subtlety, but for once Keith is acutely aware of it too. Shiro’s scent swirls through the room, blanketing Keith in tangible proof of his arousal and contentment. His omega is not afraid of holding back and Keith wants to bury himself in Shiro’s mouth and _let_ go.

Still he holds back, his nails scratching the veneer off the wooden headboard.

Shiro’s eyes fly up, his attention focused on the way Keith’s knuckles are going white as he holds the bedframe. His legs shake as a sharp pain shoots his way up his back. This he remembers—the pain that comes with not giving in to the rut.

There’s a sound from Shiro, not words—he can’t exactly talk with his lips wrapped around Keith’s cock—but he hums loudly trying to get Keith’s attention. It takes him a second to respond, his breathing focused as he drags his eyes down to look at Shiro. Shiro, whose starlight white hair is fanned out on the red silk pillowcase like a halo. Shiro, whose eyes are watering with his lips stretched wide.

He’s clearly trying to convey something to Keith but Keith doesn’t pick up the meaning. With a huff Shiro reaches out, his big hands digging into Keith’s ass cheeks as he pulls him down _hard_ —Keith’s cock slipping all the way into Shiro’s mouth and down the back of his throat so deep that Shiro’s nose is shoved into his treasure trail.

Tears leak out of Shiro’s eyes as he moans loudly and Keith is fucking undone. 

Good. It feels good. He’s wanted and safe and his omega wants this—wants Keith to fuck his mouth hard and deep.

“Shiro,” Keith chokes out, tipping himself backwards then forward just enough to feel the tip of his cock sliding along the back of Shiro’s throat. If the sounds Shiro makes are anything to go by he loves it, moaning even louder the second time as his fingers dig into Keith’s ass hard enough to leave marks. The intensity with which Shiro sucks Keith’s cock makes Keith feel insane. The hollow of his cheeks, the vibrations of his moans against Keith’s cock, and the greedy way he urges Keith to fuck his mouth tip Keith over the edge.

His mate is beautiful and strong, and he wants Keith—he wants this.

“Mine,” Keith declares, the last thing he says before the rut fog clouds any thoughts except his most primal ones.

With rapt fascination and increasing arousal he watches the way his cock slips in Shiro’s mouth, watches the drool at the corner of Shiro’s mouth as the shaft slides in and the way his plush lips look wrapped around Keith’s girth. The fingers on his ass dig in, bringing his hips down deeper as Keith’s hands slip and he buries himself all the way down the back of Shiro’s throat. It’s tight, so tight and warm, and Keith comes with no warning spilling his release.

It’s stunning to watch the slight widening of Shiro’s eyes and the way his come looks leaking out of the side of Shiro’s mouth as he tries and fails to swallow it all down.

Keith pulls back enough to let him keep trying, pleasure racing through the veins at the sight of Shiro’s swollen come-covered lips and watery eyes. He’s a picture of debauchery and Keith’s hindbrain screams with satisfaction. 

_Mine. I did this. Mine_

As with most of Keith’s ruts, his orgasm is more intense as is the amount he comes. Shiro doesn’t seem to mind, eyes never leaving Keith’s as he swallows. Keith’s not even sure what makes him pull back further, spilling the last of his release directly onto Shiro’s mouth. It’s so much that, try as he might, he can’t seem to swallow it all. Keith helps, dragging his fingers up the side of Shiro’s jawline to scoop up the surplus then pushing it back into Shiro’s mouth.

There’s no resistance, and Shiro opens his mouth as eagerly for Keith’s fingers as he did his cock, his tongue slipping between Keith’s fingers as he sucks them clean.

When Keith withdraws his fingers, Shiro lets out a little whine of disappointment. Keith soothes a hand through his hair, mesmerized by the sight of Shiro.

Pretty. He’s so pretty.

“How are you doing, sweetheart?” Shiro asks, his voice raw and gravelly. 

Raw from Keith. Raw from Keith’s cock fucking his throat.

Shiro smooths a hand down Keith’s hip sending chills up his spine. His mate is so perfect.

“Keith, you with me?” he asks again.

Hearing his voice absolutely wrecked from Keith’s cock short circuits Keith’s brain. On a very distant level, he’s aware that Shiro has asked him a question, and that normally he would be answering that question. He’s not capable now. The only thing he cares about is touching his omega, kissing him, showing him how loved he is. Keith is a good alpha and he will show his mate. He will make him feel better than he’s ever felt in his entire life.

“Keith, do—”

Keith moves so fast Shiro only has a second of warning before he’s scooting back onto the bed and grabbing Shiro’s arms to get him to follow.

“Okay, yeah—you want me to sit in your lap and, holy fucking shit,” Shiro chokes when Keith grabs his hips and pulls him down onto his cock. “Oh god, Keith. You’re hard again, and oh my god.”

A rumble of satisfaction falls from Keith as his cock sinks into Shiro’s body. He’s so open for Keith, his body loose and wet, and there’s no greater pleasure than having his omega in his lap, his cock buried inside his body.

“Holy fuck, did you get strong?” Shiro huffs, looping his arms around Keith’s neck.

Keith blinks, eyes wide and focused on Shiro. This close Keith can see the little fleck of gold around his pupils, can count every one of his dark lashes. He’s so beautiful. Keith loves him. He loves him so much. His beautiful Shiro.

“God, you’re really out of it aren’t you?” Shiro says, shifting his knees so he sinks down the last inch or so.

Keith’s buried balls deep in his ass now and he isn't sure if he wants to stay like this—warm and content—or fuck Shiro’s brains out. The desire builds in Keith, a whine falling from his lips. He wants everything, he wants it all and he doesn’t know what to do. His mate is so precious and deserves everything, and Keith doesn’t know what to do first.

“Shh, hey it’s okay,” Shiro murmurs, tipping his head down to rest their foreheads together.

He’s close. So close Keith can practically taste him but he’s not close enough. His lips aren't touching Keith’s and that suddenly seems like an absolute travesty. He surges forward, slamming his lips to Shiro’s. It’s rough, rougher than Shiro deserves, but Keith can’t slow down. He doesn’t know how. The desire inside him is building and Keith doesn’t know how to control it.

“Shhh,” Shiro soothes again, somehow managing to slow the kiss into something languid and sweet as he brings Keith’s hand up and rests it on his chest. Beneath his fingers Shiro’s heart beats steady and strong, a soothing rhythm that Keith latches on to.

When Keith drags his tongue across Shiro’s bottom lip, Shiro opens wide to let him in—always letting Keith in. It’s absolute heaven, their tongues toying with each other and the taste of his own come still heavy and musky on Shiro’s tongue. Shiro tastes like Keith, and it makes something primal in him want to scream.

_Mine. Mine. Mine._

It’s a mantra on repeat in Keith’s brain—the single greatest truth he’s ever known. 

Keith can feel the moment his rut crests—the moment it takes over completely. In the past it was a moment marked by pain, both physical and emotional as Keith buried his face in cold pillows to hide the tears that fell as he fucked into his hand or rut aid, deeply aware of how alone he was. 

He is not alone now. He is with his omega—his _mate_. His mate, who is making happy little sighs as Keith licks into his mouth. His mate, whose body was so ready for Keith not a bit of prep was needed. His mate, whose scent fills the air with his obvious contentment and arousal. Like kindling thrown on the fire, the undeniable proof of the effect he has on his omega makes the indescribable need in him grow. 

There’s a sound not unlike a growl, and Keith’s pretty sure it came from him as he tips them over to send Shiro tumbling back onto the mattress. Shiro makes a little laugh of surprise which Keith greedily swallows down, sucking Shiro’s bottom into his mouth. Shiro stops laughing, the sound shifting into something needier as Keith pulls the kiss-swollen lip between his teeth and tugs.

He’s never rough with Shiro. Never. He would never hurt him. But Shiro likes when Keith manhandles him a little, likes when Keith makes Shiro _feel_ every touch, whether it’s a hand or a mouth or his cock. And fuck does Keith plan to make Shiro feel it now.

Shiro groans when Keith stops sucking on his lip, but the groan turns into a guttural moan as Keith pulls out of Shiro then slams back in.

He knows he was supposed to do something, wait maybe. He’s pretty sure he had some kind of idea about tiring himself out before fucking Shiro’s ass so he didn’t overstimulate Shiro too much, but Keith can’t resist. Shiro is so wet for him, so ready. He wants to be fucked into the mattress until he’s screaming and Keith wants it too.

“Holy fuck,” Shiro gasps, his hand flying back to brace himself against the headboard as Keith fucks into him with such intensity the bed creaks and the wooden frame slams into the wall with a loud thud on every thrust. “Nnnngh.”

The sounds Shiro’s making are good. Keith wants more.

“Keith—” but Shiro stops talking when Keith latches on to the bond mark at the side of his neck, sinking his teeth into the flesh hard enough to leave a fresh mark.

Shiro lets out a yell, hands flying out to grab Keith’s biceps as he arches off the bed. Keith stops biting, switching instead to mouth at the delicate flesh as the fresh mark blossoms. He doesn’t need to mark Shiro again, but it feels good to see a fresh bond bite on Shiro’s neck, feels good to hear the uptick in Shiro’s heartbeat as it races, feels good to have his mate writhe beneath him with pleasure.

Strong fingers dig into Keith’s biceps as Shiro chokes out words that Keith is too far gone to understand. The only thing he understands is his omega’s pleasure, the thickening of his arousal, and the way he shudders as Keith fucks into him over and over, his ears filled with the sounds of the bed slamming into the wall and the wanton moans Shiro emits.

Keith is close, so close. There’s a pleasure building, a need so deep in his bones it aches—but for once it’s a good ache. Keith chases the pleasure, fucking into Shiro harder and faster until Shiro is screaming. The sound is enough to break through Keith’s fog and he pulls away from Shiro’s neck to stare down at Shiro’s face. His eyes are squeezed shut, but they flutter open when he realizes Keith is watching him, pupils blown wide and his eyes watering. 

“Hi,” Shiro whispers, breathless and voice still raw. His chest heaves, his breathing ragged as he loosens his grips on Keith’s arm, smoothing a hand down Keith’s arm in a gentle touch. 

He cocks his head, eyes raking over his mate to make sure he’s okay. The mark at the side of his neck is bright purple now and his hair is a mess. More importantly, he looks happy. Trying to focus is hard, a slight throbbing in Keith’s brain starting the longer he waits to resume the fucking. He’s so hard it almost hurts, with his body teetering on the edge of release. Keith wants to come so bad, but this—this feels important even if the rut fog is making it hard for Keith to be sure why. 

There’s something Keith wants to ask, but it’s too hard to form the words. Instead, he moves one hand down to settle it over Shiro’s heart, focusing on the way it thuds in his chest, stroking fingers over it as his extra sensitive hearing picks up the sound— _lub dub, lub dub_. The sound soothes away the confusion and headache, allowing Keith to settle back in to the feelings of bliss.

“You make me feel so good,” Shiro says, the crackling of his voice sending a fresh rush of arousal through Keith. “Such a good alpha. You take such good care of what’s yours.”

Keith whines, the words piercing his heart.

Good alpha. Keith is a good alpha.

Without warning Keith comes, his orgasm ripped from his body as he tips down and crashes his mouth against Shiro’s in a sloppy kiss as he rocks his hips. Through it all, Shiro continues to stroke every part of Keith he can reach, smoothing his hands down Keith’s arms and then his sides as Keith whines again. It feels so good, everything feels so good, and it’s only Shiro’s hands on him and the lips against his own that stop him from floating away.

They kiss and kiss until Keith’s jaw is sore. It’s only when he shifts his body down and feels Shiro’s cock—still full hard—brush against his belly that Keith stops. 

Oh. His omega hasn’t come. Keith needs to make his omega come.

There’s a little noise of surprise from Shiro when Keith breaks the kiss, a sound that increases when Keith shimmies down Shiro’s body and places his hands on his hips, easily flipping him over onto his stomach.

“Holy fuck,” Shiro mumbles, words turning into a groan as Keith yanks his ass towards him, helping Shiro get onto his hands and knees. 

It’s the perfect position for Keith to admire Shiro’s ass—the round cheeks begging to be squeezed. So squeeze them Keith does, placing one hand on each of Shiro’s ass cheeks and spreading them wide. His mouth waters at the sight of Shiro’s exposed hole, the rim pink and fluttering as slick and Keith’s come drips out. For a few seconds Keith simply stares, then reality slams into him. Nothing should be coming out. His omega should be full—full of his come, full of his cock and fingers. Full, full, full.

It’s a mantra on repeat in his brain as Keith drags his thumb up the back of Shiro’s thigh, collecting the come and pressing it back inside. His thumb slips into Shiro’s ass easily, but the more Keith fingers at his rim, the more he leaks until Keith realizes he can’t press it all inside. There’s so much slick, and even more come, and it’s making a mess of Shiro’s ass and thighs.

The idea of wasting a drop of it is unthinkable and Keith drops his elbows to the bed so he can bury his face in between Shiro’s cheeks. The first thing he does is inhale deeply—the scent here muskier and dripping with the scent of pleasure and sex—and the most primal part of Keith’s brain screams as he drags his tongue down the crease of Shiro’s ass and over his hole. 

Shiro moans loudly and there is no doubt in Keith’s rut-addled brain that it’s a sound of unbridled pleasure. The taste of Shiro’s slick and his own come is a taste Keith likes, and he does it again, lapping and sucking at Shiro with abandon as Shiro buries his face into the mattress and lets out a sound so full of pleasure that Keith’s cock hardens for a third time. His mate feels good, but Keith can make him feel better. Shiro’s heart is racing but Keith wants to hear it go faster.

Ignoring the ache in his jaw, Keith continues to lap and suck, using his thumbs to spread Shiro’s hole open so he can get better access, smoothing his fingers over the fluttering muscle as his tongue slips inside to fuck him with it. Shiro’s full on screaming now, the sound half muffled as he rubs his face into the mattress, his body beginning to tremble as Keith fucks into his ass with fingers and tongue. 

The trembling increases as Keith removes one hand from Shiro’s ass to drag it lower, fingers skimming over Shiro’s balls and then down further to his cock. Keith’s barely got his fingers wrapped around Shiro’s length when Shiro shudders. It spurs Keith on, the sound of Shiro’s heart racing making his own heart rate pick up.

Keith gives his cock a squeeze, Shiro’s length slipping through his fingers as he strokes him. The angle makes it hard for Keith to set the pace he knows Shiro likes, but he does his best to please him with firm and fast strokes. Keith’s got his nose shoved in the crack of Shiro’s ass, the scent of his arousal so thick its making Keith feel drunk on pheromones, and his tongue is thrusting into Shiro’s hole when Shiro abruptly comes. There’s no warning, one second Shiro is begging for more and the next he’s arching his back and sobbing with pleasure. Keith keeps stroking him as Shiro covers the sheets in his come, all the while still licking into Shiro’s ass as a second wave of slick gushes out in time with his orgasm. 

Shiro’s so wet it’s dripping now, and try as he might Keith can’t get it all, the mess dripping down Shiro’s thighs and Keith’s chin as he greedily eats Shiro’s ass, and his ears full of the sound of Shiro’s ragged breathing, the erratic thrumming of his heart, and the filthy slurping sounds Keith is making as he moves his to cover Shiro’s fluttering hole and sucks.

He sucks and licks and mouths at Shiro until he’s lapped up every drop of slick and come—until Shiro’s splayed out on the mattress on his stomach with his arms and legs spread out like a starfish and whimpering. It’s such a pretty sound, his honey-sweet voice pitched with overstimulation and satisfaction. He doesn’t stop until Shiro is licked clean, but even then it’s not enough. He need his mouth on Shiro’s body, needs to keep hearing those pretty sounds Shiro makes when Keith makes him feel good.

Without a moment of pause Keith abandons eating Shiro’s ass, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his forearm, and then diving back in to suck on one of Shiro’s perfect round ass cheeks. Shiro groans quickly, half lifting his left hand then letting it thunk on the bed when Keith takes a mouthful of that perfect ass between his teeth and bites. It’s not hard enough to break the skin or hurt, but it’s hard enough to leave a crescent mark on the pale skin. It’s hard enough to soothe the itch building in Keith to worship and mark his mate.

He continues mouthing across Shiro’s body, spending a particularly long time sucking pretty purple marks into his thick thighs before carefully rolling him onto his back.

“Nngghh,” Shiro grunts, one arm thrown over his face. He’s completely boneless, groaning and it does something funny to Keith’s heart to see him so relaxed. He’s made Shiro feel good, really good, and now he’s like putty in Keith’s hands. As Keith adjusts him so he’s more comfortable, his arm slips off his face revealing heavy lidded eyes. A smile takes shape on his face, pretty lips curling up in the corners in a tender smile.

Shiro is the most beautiful thing Keith has ever seen. 

The smile falls when Shiro’s travel down his body and land on Keith’s cock—his achingly hard cock.

“Keith, you didn’t get to come,” Shiro says, his voice still gravelly.

There’s something in his words, some kind of concern, that breaks through the haze at the edges of Keith’s mind. His omega is so good to him. 

“My ass is a little sensitive, but, uh…if you wanted you could fuck another part of me.”

Keith cocks his head to the side, unable to make sense of Shiro’s words. There are too many of them.

“Right, rut fog,” Shiro mumbles to himself, shifting on the bed as he brings his hands up to his chest. 

Keith’s eyes follow the movement of Shiro’s hands, his attention drawn to the way Shiro swirls his fingers over his own nipples until they’re erect. Shiro does it again, pinches the nipples then smooths his big fingers over the swell of his voluminous chest, massaging it. 

There’s a loud whimper, and it takes a second for Keith to realize the sound has come from him.

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart. Look at me,” Shiro says, his big hands covering his nipples as he squeezes his chest. “You love my pecs, don’t you? Bet you’d like to fuck them. You wanna fuck my tits, baby? Wanna cover them in your come?” he asks, squeezing his pecs together.

This time Keith doesn’t whimper, he _growls_. He growls loud, the sound rumbling out of his chest as he scrambles up Shiro’s body and pushes Shiro’s hands away. His. These are his.

Shiro huffs out a little laugh, his smile turning pleased again. “Good boy. I’m yours. You can fuck whats yours. You gonna fuck me, Keith? You gonna fuck my— _oh_.”

Satisfaction swells in Keith as he pushes Shiro’s hands away, digging his fingers into the plush flesh of Shiro’s chest. It’s so big, so soft, and he digs his fingers in harder until Shiro is moaning as he squeezes the pecs together and thrusts forward. At the first slide of his cock between the pecs, Keith groans, his arousal cresting. 

This is good. This is so good.

Everything about touching Shiro—and being touched by him—makes Keith’s nerve endings light up like the Fourth of July. Pleasure explodes at every contact point—the jut of his hip where Shiro’s hand has found purchase, in between Shiro’s pecs where his cock fucks into the swell of the soft flesh, and even the insides of his knees which are squeezing Shiro’s sides. When Shiro’s free hand comes up to rest at Keith’s lower back, Keith grunts and fucks against Shiro’s chest harder. It only seems to spur Shiro on.

“Look at you. So pretty. So strong. So smart. Such a good alpha.” 

Keith forgets how to breathe, holding his breath as he watches drops of pre-come dribble against Shiro’s left collarbone on a particularly hard thrust.

“Yeah, you,” Shiro continues, his voice so raw that his words are barely above a whisper. “Who’s a good alpha, hmm? Is it you, sweetheart?”

Keith _whines_ , the words making him ache with longing and with pleasure. Most of Shiro’s words have been hard to understand, the sentences too long for Keith to focus on. He understands this. _Good alpha_. He is a good alpha. His mate says so. His mate never lies.

“Yeah, it’s you,” Shiro croons, licking his lips and grinning up at Keith and gives his hips a gentle squeeze.

 _Mine_ , Keith thinks, his body thrumming with adrenaline. It feels good, almost too good. His limbs tingle as he squeezes each of Shiro’s pecs to bring them closer together, rutting against him with such abandon he hopes Shiro’s chest isn’t sore tomorrow. 

“You’re doing so good,” Shiro murmurs and Keith wheezes, inhaling so sharply through his nose his vision blurs. There’s not enough oxygen in his brain or his lungs but he doesn’t know how to get more. All he knows is he never wants to stop touching Shiro.

With every roll of Keith’s hips, he feels his orgasm getting close. It’s too hard to hold back with the scent of his omega’s pleasure flooding the air, sweet with satisfaction and affection. 

Over and over he ruts against the firm swell of Shiro’s chest, his eyes riveted to the sight of his cock dragging against them. 

Keith wants to bend down and suck Shiro’s dusty pink nipples into his mouth and suck hard. He wants to roll him over and bury himself in Shiro’s ass again. He wants to crawl up the rest of the bed and bury his cock down Shiro’s throat. He wants to wrap his fingers around his cock and stroke until he’s coming all over Shiro’s face then lick him clean. 

He wants and he wants and he wants.

The desire builds and Keith doesn’t know how to slow it down. He needs to come. He needs to mark Shiro. He needs to make his mate feel better than anyone has ever made him feel. He needs everything and he needs it now.

He needs and he needs and he needs.

Keith wants and he needs and the ache in his gut builds along with the pleasure as he gasps for air, the sharp pleasure bordering on uncomfortable for the first time since he started fucking Shiro. His mind races along with his heart, unsure what he needs first.

There’s another squeeze at his hip as Shiro begins speaking again but Keith can’t make sense of the words. Words are too hard. The only thing Keith can understand is his senses—the way Shiro feels beneath him, the way he smells, and most especially the steady thud thud of his heart beating loudly. Another squeeze and more words but Keith shakes his head and groans, a sheen of sweat breaking out on his body as he abandons fucking Shiro’s chest in favor of wrapping a hand around his cock and stroking. It’s just this side of too hard, but Keith needs to come so bad it’s starting to hurt.

“Shhh,” Shiro hums, one of his big hands wrapping over Keith’s as he helps stroke. 

Shiro’s fingers slide in beside Keith’s, his grip firm but gentler than Keith’s as he jerks his wrist. tingling sensation races up his spine and then down his arms and legs. The breath stutters out of Keith until he can barely breathe, his body trembling as he comes. There’s a bone-deep satisfaction in the sight of his come all over Shiro, painting him in thick stripes of it across his chest and shoulders, and even up the delicate side of his neck.

Keith is still coming when he moves, overcome with the need to taste his release on Shiro’s skin. His arms shake as he braces himself to move, his legs barely working as he tries to shift down Shiro’s body so he can better position himself. The hands on his hips help guide him down until Keith’s laying on top of Shiro, nuzzling his face into his neck as he licks at the bond mark and tries not to cry.

He doesn’t feel bad. Far from it. He’s never felt so fucking good. He’s also never felt _so much_. It’s like being on a roller coaster, and Keith’s blood is thrumming with exhilaration. Beneath the euphoria is something else too, something out of his control. A pitiful whine falls from his lips as he sucks and licks Shiro clean, unsure how to make it stop. It’s like the roller coaster has no breaks, like it won’t slow down.

His heart races so fast it’s hard to breathe, his lungs not quite filling with air as he gasps for breaths in between licks.

Shiro is talking, his voice pitched especially low. Keith wants to understand what he’s saying but he can’t, the fog in his brain making it so hard to think. Undeterred Shiro continues to talk, the vibrations of his voice soothing something in Keith. Keith might not know what he is saying but he knows he’s not alone.

When words don’t work Shiro moves to action, wrapping his hands around Keith’s waist and easily lifting him to shift him lower. Keith lets out a pitiful sound, confusion and longing slamming into him. But then Shiro is settling him back down on his chest, lower this time so Keith’s head rests just above his head and oh— _oh_.

Strong fingers find their way into his hair, smoothing the sweaty strands off his face. They don’t stop, just continue over and over, a gentle touch as fingers smooth over his forehead then continue back, dragging along his scalp and making Keith almost sob. It’s so soothing, the frantic need inside of him settling as he focuses on the drag of nails over his scalp and the loud thud of Shiro’s heart.

_Thump thump. Thump thump._

The longer Keith remains, the slower the beat goes. It fills Keith with satisfaction unlike he’s ever experienced to know he is the one to make his mate’s heart race, but also the one who can slow it down—to know Keith’s presence is steadying the beat. The sound lulls him, the racing of his own heart finally subsiding as he slows his breathing to match Shiro’s. 

Shiro never stops touching him, the movement of his fingers expanding and turning exploratory as they trail over the back of Keith’s neck and over his shoulders. Shiro’s other hand joins in, one smoothing up and down the length of Keith’s spine as the other begins to massage his scalp. Keith’s helpless to do anything but groan, a little bit of drool falling out of his mouth as his eyelids droop.

He’s never felt so safe or so wanted, and he leans into the sensation—finally letting his eyes fall shut as Shiro begins to him. Comforted by the sound of Shiro’s heartbeat and his touch, Keith lets his eyes finally fall shut. In seconds he’s asleep.

* * *

The transition from sleep to wakefulness is abrupt, and Keith startles at the shift. It takes a few moments for Keith to make sense of where he is—safe in his bed with Shiro—and longer still to understand why he feels so shitty. His head throbs, his mouth is so dry he can’t even swallow, and his limbs are heavy. The worst of it though is the burning need in his gut—the need to pee.

He’s still resting his head on Shiro’s chest and it’s like a pillow and it’s fucking heaven. Shiro’s heartbeat is impossibly slow in sleep, his body lax and radiating heat. Keith is warm and comfortable and he doesn’t want to move, ever.

Unfortunately for Keith, the need to pee grows and grows to the point that he can't even bury his face into Shiro’s chest and try to pretend the world doesn’t exist because his body knows otherwise. With no small amount of regret and a very large frown on his face, Keith rolls off Shiro and quite literally stumbles out of bed. The first few steps are tentative and the only thing that keeps Keith from crying out in frustration at his own inexplicable weakness is the fear of waking Shiro who’s slumbering peacefully. 

On his way to the bathroom Keith’s legs give out, sending him crashing into the floor _hard_. His knees ache from the fall and he swallows down the urge to cry as he gathers all of his strength and gets back up onto his feet. He can’t even fucking pee on his own and he fucking hates it. He knows he could have woken Shiro, that Shiro would have _wanted_ Keith to wake him, but Keith’s nothing if not a stubborn idiot. He’s spent so many ruts alone that stumbling to the bathroom to pee or cry or puke is practically second nature. Besides, the first part of his rut had been so good, so fucking good. It makes Keith’s throat feel tight just thinking about it. His ruts have never had anything good about them, ever. Not even the multiple orgasms have ever come with satisfaction or pleasure. Instead, each subsequent orgasm came with waves of anger and shame and loneliness.

Not this time, though. Not this time.

He knows his rut isn’t over, that this reprieve is only temporary, but he also knows this is already the best rut of his entire life and he doesn’t want to ruin it. It’s an awful thought, one Keith hates himself for having and one he knows Shiro would pout about if he knew. The logical part of Keith’s brain is aware that he’s not going to ruin things with Shiro because he’s feeling vulnerable and shaky and needed help going to pee, but Keith’s not capable of being logical right now. Not by a long shot.

Eventually he manages to get himself down the hallway and into the bathroom, his frown deepening when he catches sight of his own reflection. His hair looks like he stuck his finger in a light socket, there’s dried come on his chin, and his eyes are bloodshot. He’s a hot fucking mess, and the temptation to jump in the shower and make himself look nicer for Shiro is strong. Keith resists, if only because he’s pretty sure trying to stay upright in a slippery wet shower would be a recipe for disaster and the last thing he needs is to fall in the shower and give himself a fucking concussion. He doesn’t want Shiro to see him being so pathetic.

The rut fog has cleared enough that Keith is at least aware of his own physical limitations and the fact that he’s being emotionally irrational. Unfortunately, he’s still in deep enough that knowing his rut the root cause of his hormonal changes and sudden emotional instability doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. Keith feels like crying and he hates it. He hates it so fucking much.

He manages to hold off the tears as he pees. He even holds them back as he washes his hands then haphazardly brushes his teeth. It’s when he leaves the bathroom that he can’t quite hold them off any longer. The pull to go back to bed and Shiro is so damn strong, but Keith’s head hurts and his body aches and he _knows_ he’s dehydrated. He needs water, or an electrolyte drink so he doesn’t end up needing to go to the hospital for an IV drip—something that almost always ends up happening during Keith’s ruts.

This is the first time he’s had someone with him and he would rather die than be forced into a fucking hospital bed to recover from his stupid rut when he could be at home with Shiro. Keith’s exhausted and frazzled, and the arousal which had been absent when he woke up has returned with a vengeance, making his cock ache as it hangs heavy between his legs. Keith wants to sleep, but he also wants to fuck. He can’t do either because he needs to fucking hydrate so he doesn’t get sick and it’s too fucking much for his rut-addled brain to handle.

The kitchen feels so far to walk and Keith doesn’t want to be in control, he doesn’t want to be responsible and take care of himself. All he wants is to crawl back to bed and bury himself in Shiro’s body where he’s safe—where he belongs.

When the tears come, Keith isn’t surprised. 

He swipes at them angrily, rubbing the back of his forearm over his eyes and shuffling his stupid feet down the hallway towards the kitchen. Shiro would want him to hydrate. It’s the knowledge that his omega would want him to take care of himself that gives Keith the strength to make the responsible choice. Knowing he’s doing the right thing doesn’t make it any easier though. All these years later and Keith is still never prepared for the mid-rut crash—for the way the adrenaline drop makes him feel out of sorts and confused, and fucking exhausted.

It’s a struggle to get himself all the way to the kitchen but he manages, only having to pause once. He even manages to get the stupid fridge open and locate the a bottle of Gatorade in the back of the fridge hidden behind a casserole dish of leftover mac and cheese. The problem comes when Keith tries to untwist the cap on the Gatorade and _cant_. He curses, nearly kicking the cupboard in frustration. His hands shake as he yanks open drawers until he finds the silicone oven mitt, hoping a bit of friction will help. It doesn’t. Try as he might, he can’t get the goddamn lid off the fucking Gatorade. It’s stupid. So stupid. Keith’s not a child. He’s a twenty-four year old man and he can’t even get the lid off his stupid fucking drink.

Frustration wells up in Keith and he throws the bottle across the room, remorse pooling in the pit of his stomach when it hits the wall with such force it knocks the framed photo of him and Shiro from their first date off the wall and sends it to the floor, the glass frame shattering.

“Fucking fuck,” Keith curses, ignoring the tears this time as he drops to his knees and crawls forward. He doesn’t want Shiro to find the mess, doesn’t want Shiro to see how Keith ruins things during his rut, even something special. 

The tears come harder when Keith accidentally crawls on top of a chunk of glass. It’s not a deep cut and it barely hurts, but watching the blood spill onto the white tile floor makes shame well up in Keith. 

Keith’s a fucking mess and even with the best mate in the entire world he’s somehow managed to fuck things up. He needs to clean up the glass but his hands are shaking and the rut fog is coming back and Keith cries harder, unsure how he can be sitting on the floor surrounded by shards of glass with a stupid hard cock leaking pre-come. Which is exactly how Shiro finds him, stumbling into the kitchen a few seconds later with his hair a mess and his eyes half-lidded. He looks confused and sleepy and somehow it makes Keith cry harder, choking back silent sobs as he watches Shiro take it all in.

“Keith, what the— _oh my god_.” He looks confused and sleepy and somehow it makes Keith cry harder, choking back silent sobs as he watches Shiro take it all in.

“I’m sorry,” Keith whispers, his voice small even to his own ears.

There’s no way to minimize what a fucking disaster he is right now. 

Keith ruins everything.


	3. Chapter 3

For one heart stopping second Shiro remains immobile in the doorway, his eyes comically wide. Keith's just about worked himself up to the point of a panic attack imagining Shiro realizing what a mess Keith is during his rut when Shiro moves across the kitchen, carefully avoiding the broken glass on the floor as he makes his way to Keith.

“Keith, _no_. you don't have anything to apologize for,” Shiro says, dropping to his knees and reaching out to cradle Keith’s cheek. His voice is so god damn kind it makes it impossible for Keith to stop fucking crying. "What happened?”

Keith shrugs helplessly, words failing him. He doesn’t know how to explain the emotions storming inside of him and simply saying he couldn’t open his drink feels pathetic. His eyes are drawn to the Gatorade nonetheless and Shiro’s gaze follows.

“Were you trying to drink it, love?”

Keith closes his eyes and nods, biting down hard on his bottom lip when Shiro removes his hand. Bad. He’s a bad alpha. He can’t take care of his omega if he can’t take care of himself and—

“There you go.”

He opens his eyes to see Shiro holding out the bottle of Gatorade, lid removed. He’s holding it out to Keith and smiling, kneeling before Keith naked and sleepy and surrounded by glass and smiling at Keith like everything is okay. It makes Keith’s throat wobble as he reaches for the bottle, frowning when his hands shake enough that he spills some on his legs.

“Let me help, please,” Shiro pleads, wrapping his hand around Keith’s to steady his hand and helping him guide it to his mouth. 

Keith’s had nurses try to help, even had a personal rut consultant once. He’d pushed them all as far away as possible. On a good day Keith struggles with accepting help. During a rut, it’s unthinkable. Somehow, it’s easy to let Shiro help. 

“You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” Shiro says, wiping away a drop of Gatorade from Keith's chin with his thumb.

The words don’t make sense. Keith hasn’t done anything to be proud of. 

Some of his confusion must show on his face because Shiro drags his knuckles over the side of Keith’s cheek as he continues to chug the Gatorade like he hasn’t had a drink in a year.

“You’re incredible. You’re so strong, so beautiful. And you came in here to hydrate and take care of yourself. I’m so damn proud of you, sweetheart.”

Even if the words still don’t feel deserved, they go straight to Keith’s core. It doesn’t matter if they’re objectively true, all that matters is that Shiro thinks so. His mate is proud of him and it soothes the small, broken parts of Keith that feel unlovable—the ones that resurface every time he has a rut.

“I love you so much,” Shiro murmurs.

A whine rumbles out of Keith’s chest as he guzzles down the last of his drink. Shiro is too good to him and Keith loves him so much. Keith loves him so much it takes his breath away.

“You still with me?” Shiro asks, pulling the Gatorade bottle away.

Keith grunts, nodding his head but incapable of vocalizing anything. He feels like someone took all of his feelings and shoved them in a blender and turned it on high. Everything is mixed up and confusing and the only thing that makes sense is Shiro—his touch soothing, his voice a balm to the frayed edges of Keith’s nerves.

“You’re still bleeding. We need to take care of that.”

He shakes his head, whining again. He doesn’t care about the cut. He just wants to go back to bed.

“Goddamn, Keith, don’t pout at me like this, it isn’t fair,” Shiro laughs, smoothing the pad of his thumb over Keith’s bottom lip. He didn’t even know he was pouting, but if it gets him this much attention he can do it again. He does, jutting out his bottom lip. “Wow, you’re playing dirty. I still think we should—”

He cuts him off by surging forward, ignoring the little sting in his knee as he crawls into Shiro’s lap and kisses him. It’s not slow or gentle, it’s desperate—desperate like Keith is. He pushes all of his feelings into the kiss, fisting his hands in Shiro’s hair and deepening the kiss. 

“Keith—” Shiro tries, but Keith ignores him, pulling Shiro’s bottom lip between his teeth and sucking.

When Shiro moans, adrenaline floods Keith’s entire body. This is good. His mate makes such pretty sounds. He wants to hear more. 

“Whoa, whoa,” Shiro interrupts, a hand on Keith’s chest when Keith starts to reach for Shiro’s cock. 

A frown makes its way onto Keith’s face, rejection clouding his thoughts. This is…not good. His mate doesn’t want him to touch him. 

“No, not _no_ ,” Shiro says, sliding his big hand up the side of Keith’s neck to cradle the back of his head. “Just…you gotta wait. I need you to let me check your cut okay? I wanna make sure there’s no glass in it. Can you do that? Can you let me check your cut? I promise when we’re done we can do anything you want. We can cuddle or sleep or fuck or—”

“Fuck,” Keith chokes out, hands uselessly patting at Shiro’s chest. There are little marks where his fingers were earlier and pleasure swirls in Keith’s gut at the sight of the marks on Shiro’s pale skin.

“We can definitely fuck,” Shiro says, removing his hand from Keith’s neck and sliding it down his side to grab a hold of his thigh. He moves his second hand to Keith’s other thigh, giving each of them a squeeze. Then without warning he stands up, taking Keith with him. His arms fly out around Shiro’s neck and his legs wrap around Shiro’s waist as Shiro carries him from the kitchen.

Such a bold display of Shiro’s strength makes Keith’s cock throb with desire. _Strong_ —his omega is so strong. He knows some alphas might feel emasculated by having a mate equally strong—if not more so—but all Keith feels is horny. He loves that Shiro is so big, loves the sight of his muscles rippling and flexing. He loves that even at the peak of his rut when his strength is doubled, Shiro can still handle him. 

Most of all he loves know that Shiro _chooses_ to submit to Keith. It’s never been about power between them, but trust.

He trusts Shiro right now. All Keith wants to is drag Shiro back to their bed and ignore his knee in favor of giving his beautiful mate all the love and attention he deserves. Except that’s not what Shiro wants. He’s saying something about bandaids and antiseptic, and Keith really can’t follow along or care. All he knows is he trusts Shiro and as hard as it is for him to ever relinquish control, especially during a rut, he can try for Shiro. 

It takes a considerable amount of self-control for Keith to remain still when Shiro deposits him on the edge of the bed, more still for him not to cry out when Shiro leaves him to retrieve the small first aid kit from under the sink. It helps that Shiro’s visible the entire time, his pert ass on full display as he rummages around under the bathroom sink. It’s not until he turns around with the small first aid kit they keep under the sink that Keith understands what Shiro was doing.

“You’re doing so good,” Shiro says, dropping to his knees and sitting between the spread of Keith’s legs. His face is so close to Keith’s cock, his pretty lips thinned in concentration as he rips open an antiseptic swap and cleans Keith cut. It stings, but Keith doesn’t even wince, too mesmerized by the way Shiro’s face screws up when he’s hyperfocused.

“Pretty,” Keith murmurs, his hand still shaking a little as he reaches out to twist a bit of Shiro’s pale white hair around his finger.

Shiro tips his head up, eyes softening as he smiles at Keith. “Thank you.”

Keith puffs up his chest at Shiro’s easy acceptance of his compliment. Keith likes to tell Shiro how pretty he is, how smart he is, how perfect he is. It makes Keith feel so good to be able to let Shiro know how much he appreciates everything about him. 

“Pretty,” Keith repeats, unable to stop his hands from roaming over Shiro’s face—across the scar on the bridge of his nose and down the razor sharp angles of his jaw. He traces his fingers over the swell of his cheekbone then down, simply content to play with Shiro’s lips as Shiro finishes cleaning the cut and applies a bandage.

“All done,” Shiro says, pushing the first aid kit behind him but remaining on his knees. “You did amazing, my love. So good. Good boys deserve a reward.”

His inhale is sharp, intense pleasure flooding his veins. Good. He’s good.

Shiro stares at him, waiting for an answer as Keith pushes his thumb into Shiro’s mouth. It’s so warm and wet and it makes Keith’s thoughts blur as he thinks of other parts of Shiro that are so wet and warm. Shiro rubs the side of his cheek into Keith’s palm as he drags his tongue along the pad of Keith’s thumb. 

“What do you want?” Shiro asks, his voice a little garbled since Keith still has his finger in his mouth.

The question is way too hard for Keith who can already feel the intensity of the rut fog increasing. It’s impossible to talk, and just thinking is becoming increasingly difficult. All he knows is he wants Shiro.

By some miracle, Shiro seems aware that Keith is struggling because he stands up and puts his big hands on Keith’s hips then he picks him up like he’s light as a feather before easily moving him back so he’s resting in the center of the bed. Before Keith can whine that Shiro isn’t close enough, he follows suit and crawls up into the bed.

“Hi,” Shiro whispers, kissing Keith’s forehead before gently pressing him back onto the pillows.

Somehow it’s easy to let Shiro take control for just a little bit, the itch inside of him soothed by his mate’s presence. Were it anyone else, Keith knows he’d be fighting tooth and nail to regain control. With Shiro, it’s different. Everything is different.

“Oh, look at you,” Shiro murmurs, kneeling over Keith. “What a good alpha you are, trusting me to take care of you. I will, you know—take care of you. Always.”

Keith’s heart skips a beat, his arousal flaring along with something in his chest that makes it hard to breathe.

A smile takes shape on Shiro’s face as he tips forward, crowding over Keith so he’s surrounded by him, Shiro’s knees pressing into his sides, his hands bracketed on either side of Keith’s head and his face hovering above Keith’s. There’s something in his eyes, something warm and full of affection that makes Keith ache with how loved he feels. 

Laying beneath Shiro—caged in by him—Keith doesn’t feel trapped, he feels _safe_. 

He could let go, he thinks. Shiro would take care of him. Shiro can handle him. Maybe…maybe Keith won’t be too much.

“Pretty boy, you’ve been so strong. You can let me do this for you, yeah?” Shiro asks, dipping his head and brushing his lips against Keith’s. It’s a chaste kiss but it makes his body flush with need. 

All too soon Shiro pulls out of the kiss, and not even a whine from Keith as he paws at him to try and pull him back works. But then Shiro is grabbing Keith’s cock and oh—oh it feels so good. Shiro’s hands are so fucking big and warm and he gives Keith’s cock a few firm strokes before rising up onto his knees. Keith’s brain barely has time to process what he’s seeing before Shiro is sinking down onto Keith’s cock.

It makes Keith’s vision blur as he’s unexpectedly surrounded by Shiro’s tight warmth. 

“You’re so big,” Shiro grunts, falling forward once more to kiss Keith. It’s just as quick as the last kiss but laced with a fuck ton more desire. “I’m gonna fuck myself on your cock, gonna show you just how good you make me feel.”

True to his word Shiro sits back, then proceeds to lift himself up and off Keith’s cock before sinking back down. It’s a slower pace than Keith would set, but it feels good enough to make Keith’s legs tingle. Keith loves all sex with Shiro, but this—his aching cock buried inside of his mate—this is Keith’s favorite.

“That’s it,” Shiro says a little breathlessly as he rocks back down onto Keith’s cock with a moan. “You feel so good.”

Keith might be the one on his back but it doesn’t mean he can’t touch. He wants to touch. He needs to touch. So he does, reaching out to drag his hands up from Shiro’s knees to the softest part of his thighs. Shiro has glorious thighs—so muscular, so thick. He digs his fingers into the flesh, delighting in the little sigh of pleasure Shiro emits.

“So good, Keith. Feels so good,” Shiro moans, arching his back and tipping his head to the side as Keith continues to paw at him.

Everything from Shiro’s words to his body language fills Keith with a sense of rightness. This is what his body was born to do—fill his omega, please his omega. The sight of Shiro eagerly fucking himself on Keith’s cock like he cant get enough is the most erotic thing Keith’s ever seen. 

“I love the way you feel inside of me,” Shiro gasps, his cock bobbing in the air as he picks up the pace a little. “I want more, want it all. You gonna give me more?”

Distantly, Keith is aware there was a question in there but he’s too focused on the sight of Shiro’s cock thudding against his belly as Shiro seats himself down on Keith’s cock hard, mesmerized by the beads of pre-come that dribble out of the slit. It’s only the word _knot_ that has Keith’s rut fog momentarily clearing. He knows that word. That word is important.

When he drags his gaze away from Shiro’s cock and up to his face, it’s to find Shiro watching him.

“You gonna knot me, sweetheart? You gonna make me scream with pleasure and fill me up?”

Keith wheezes. Shiro has a dirty fucking mouth.

“Yeah, you like that don’t you. You love when I tell you how good it feels to have you cock fucking into me, how much I ache for what only you can give me” he continues, clearly aware that Keith does in fact like it. He likes it a whole fucking lot. “I know you’ve been holding back but you don’t need to. I’m a big boy and I’m strong. You can give it to me, Keith. Fuck me hard and good, knot me. You won’t hurt me. My body was made to take you. I’m yours. I’m your omega. Fill me up, alpha. Knot me.”

The sound Keith makes isn’t human. It’s a high-pitched broken off sound. Maybe it’s a sob, maybe it’s a growl. Keith doesn’t know. All he knows is that Shiro’s words have sent enough adrenaline and need coursing through him that his fatigue suddenly seems a thing of the past. Mustering up every ounce of his sudden burst of energy, Keith grabs on to Shiro’s hips then propels himself forward to switch their positions.

Shiro’s eyes widen at the unexpected change of positions, his legs immediately wrapping around Keith’s waist as his head hits the pillow.

“Fuck, you’re strong. That was so hot,” Shiro says, squeezing his legs so his thighs press into Keith’s side and his ankles link at Keith’s lower back. As if Keith would pull away. It’s laughable—not even death itself could tear Keith away from his mate. 

Before Keith moves he takes in the sounds—the uptick in Shiro’s heartbeat and the growling sound. The growling that is getting louder and loud. The growling that is, oh—that’s him. It’s coming from him.

“I make you feel good, alpha?” Shiro asks, smoothing metal fingers down Keith’s side. They’re cooler than Shiro’s flesh fingers and a lot cooler than Keith’s flushed body. It feels so nice. “That growl for me?”

 _Everything is for you_ Keith thinks, unable to verbalize it. The growl kicks up a notch, rumbling out of his chest so loudly he can actually feel the vibrations. He clamps his mouth shut, trying to stifle the sound.

“I like the way it sounds,” Shiro tells him, fingers trailing over his ribcage. “Let it out. Be loud. Let me hear how good I am for you.”

Keith surges forward so hard the headboard slams into the wall, his hips slamming into Shiro’s ass with a satisfying slapping sound. Shiro stops talking after that, which only increases Keith’s pride. He can fuck his omega good, fuck him so good he can’t even talk. 

“Keith—” Shiro starts, then stops, his mouth hanging open on a choked off gasp as Keith’s knot begins to swell.

It’s hard to breathe, hard to think, hard to do anything but pull back to look at his omega writhing on his cock and greedily trying to take him deeper as his knot forms. Keith’s held back, so terrified of hurting Shiro outside of his heat. Even for an alpha, his knot is big and he’s always been hyperaware of the possibility of hurting his mate. Shiro doesn’t look like he’s hurting—he looks like someone is injecting him with a shot of oxytocin as the knot grows, stretching him wide.

Keith’s knees dig into the mattress as he shoves his face into Shiro’s neck. He doesn’t want to move too much and risk his knot slipping out, but it’s so hard to stay still. He feels insane with want, his jaw quivering as he mouths at the bond mark. There’s a little inhale from Shiro and even in the thick of his rut fog Keith has enough awareness to know the mark is sensitive—red marks where Keith’s teeth were. He gentles his ministrations, dragging his tongue over the mark and tasting the salty sheen of sweat on Shiro’s skin.

It’s Shiro’s turn to get a little noisy, a needy whine coming from him as Keith noses up Shiro’s neck and stops at the scent glands. He’s not gentle here, rubbing his nose into them roughly, feeling them beneath the skin and delighting in the way Shiro’s scent intensifies. His. Shiro is his.

Shiro is his omega. His mate. His everything.

“Alpha,” Shiro sobs, his heels digging into Keith’s back as the knot grows.

Pleasure floods Keith’s veins unlike anything he’s ever felt before. In past ruts Keith did everything he could to stop his knot from forming—the ache of having nothing to fill was staggering. There was nothing so hollow or painful as the comedown from a post-knot orgasm when that knot wasn’t in someone. Keith had tried every rut aid on the market but nothing satisfied the soul-deep need inside of him to mate and mark and claim. The doctors said it was rare but not unheard of, that those diagnosed with Primary Alpha Syndrome had a more intense need than most to be bonded. Rut aids might’ve felt good physically, but emotionally they were empty vessels for Keith.

For as long as he could remember, the moment his knot formed during his ruts was the moment Keith broke—the moment he could no longer ignore how alone he felt. He’s not alone now. He’s with his beautiful mate and Keith wants to cry because it feels so fucking good.

“I love you so much,” Shiro gasps, his voice broken and needy. 

Every bit of Shiro calls to Keith—mark, claim, protect, _love_.

This time Keith does cry, tears leaking from the corner of his eyes as he drops his elbows down onto the bed and cradles Shiro’s head in his hands as he crashes his lips against Shiro’s. His entire life he’s fought—fought against others’ assumptions about him, fought to get what he deserved, fought against his body needing more than he could have. Fought, fought, fought.

It wasn’t until he met Shiro that Keith got a glimpse of what life could be like without fighting.

He glimpses that future right now. There’s no struggle, no pain, no struggle—just being safe and loved as his knot swells to full size and joins them together. He’s safe with Shiro in every way and the last bit of Keith’s walls crumble. He doesn’t hold anything back as he growls and cries and strokes his thumbs over Shiro’s forehead as he kisses him. He was born for this—born to love Shiro.

Belatedly Keith is aware of Shiro coming with a cry of pleasure, sticky warmth coating his stomach as Shiro moans into the kiss and squeezes his legs tightly around Keith. It’s a whole new level of bliss to know how good he makes his mate feel—how fully Keith is able to satisfy him. 

Keith comes not long after, pumping Shiro full of his come as Shiro gentles the kiss into something slow and worshipful. There are no thoughts in Keith’s brain, only sensations—warmth and pleasure coiling around him in a protective embrace. They kiss and kiss until Keith’s lips are sore and he can hardly breathe. 

A needy whine falls from Keith’s lips when Shiro pulls out of the kiss, but Shiro soothes that away too, kissing his cheeks and his nose and his forehead before he guides Keith down onto his chest. Shiro’s legs fall to the bed, his arms coming round Keith instead as he smooths his hands up and down Keith’s spine. Neither of them speak, each too overcome in their own ways. What Shiro doesn’t say in words his body says for him—his rich scent sweet and his heartbeat steadying into a slow beat that leaves Keith in no doubt that his mate is relaxed and happy.

It takes a little maneuvering with his knot stuck in Shiro’s ass but he manages to get comfortable with his head pillowed just above Shiro’s heart, the sound like music to Keith’s ears.

 _Lub dub. Lub dub._

It’s enough to settle his own racing heart. As he comes down from his orgasm he begins to drift—the rut fog no longer leaving him disoriented and confused, but blanketing him in a cocoon of thoughts of his mate. No thoughts or no worries can break through the fog—only the melodic beat of Shiro’s heart reaches Keith, lulling him into a state of such complete relaxation that his eyes fall shut.

Shiro’s heart slows further and Keith follows along—every single bit of tension and fight leaving his body until he’s a boneless heap atop Shiro. Knot drunk on pleasure and blissed out by contentment, a smile forms on Keith’s mouth as he floats away into dreamland.

* * *

The next time Keith wakes, it’s with a start, the rut crawling up his spine and filling him with a burning need so intense he feels like he might vibrate out of his skin. Keith knows the end of his rut is near, that the testosterone and adrenaline flooding his nervous system right now is giving him a final burst of energy before he crashes.

Beneath him Shiro is once again asleep, flat on his back with his arms and legs splayed out. Keith’s cock is still buried in Shiro’s ass, but the knot has gone down. Keith closes his eyes and breathes deeply, using every ounce of self-control he possesses to not move. His cock is so hard already and Shiro’s ass is loose from being knotted, and so wet. It’s like heaven, and Keith wants to fuck him awake so bad it hurts but he won’t—he won’t take without permission.

He’s a good alpha and a good mate, and he won’t wake Shiro just because he wants to fuck.

At least that’s what he tells himself. Problem is, Keith doesn’t have enough self-control to pull out of Shiro, and the longer his cock remains in Shiro’s ass the stronger the need is—pinpricks of pain traveling from the base of his spine up his neck. He knows it’s not just a want, it’s a _need_. 

Keith needs to fuck Shiro.

The end of his rut is coming on hard and fast and Keith needs this. He tries to fight it off, digging his nails into his palm. It’s not until the crescent marks threaten to bleed that Shiro’s earlier words come back to him.

_Wake me up if you need me, Keith._

His mate doesn’t lie. His mate wants to be needed. For all Keith resists needing anyone, it’s the knowledge that Shiro thrives on being needed that allows Keith to push past a lifetime of ignoring his needs and tap on Shiro’s chest. It takes a few times but slowly Shiro’s eyes flutter open and land on Keith.

“Baby?”

Shiro’s voice is heavy with sleep and even more raw from the throat fucking than it was last night. Keith didn’t think he could get harder but he does. Shiro’s so fucking gorgeous.

“Need…need—” but he breaks off, fisting his hands in the sheet as a wave of arousal rolls through him so intense it borders on painful.

“What do you need?” Shiro asks around a yawn.

“Need to fuck you,” Keith chokes out, his arms beginning to shake as he hovers above Shiro. He takes in the flutter of dark eyelashes as the early morning light streams in through their bedroom window, the uptick in Shiro’s heart rate, and the easy way Shiro spreads his legs.

“Fuck me,” Shiro rasps, too sleepy to do more than just lay there.

Keith doesn’t wait to be told twice, thrusting forward and burying himself fully in Shiro’s body. Good. This is good, he thinks—the filthy squelching sounds filling the air as Keith fucks into Shiro’s ass and some of the earlier come leaking out. Shiro’s still so full of him and Keith wants to fill him again, wants to fuck him so hard and deep that Shiro feels it long after his rut has ended.

“Oh,” Shiro groans, eyes half-lidded as he arches his neck. Shiro’s not a morning person, and the odds of getting many words from him right now are slim to none. But he doesn’t hold back his pleasure, a guttural moan falling from his lips as Keith thrusts into him. 

Keith doesn’t need words to know how good he’s making Shiro feel. Shiro’s cock is rapidly hardening against his belly and his chest is heaving. He looks so pretty, pillow marks on the side of his cheek and his body lax and pliant. 

“Mine,” Keith grunts, pulling back and thrusting back in without pausing. There’s nothing slow or gentle about this now, and Keith delights in the way Shiro just lays back and takes it, letting Keith make him feel good.

The worst of the rut fog has broken, leaving Keith more capable of thinking, even if verbalizing those thoughts still feels hard. The need though, well, that’s higher than ever—the fog replaced by a level of horniess that makes Keith feel insane. He thought he was horny before, but that was nothing compared to now. He wants to lick and suck and bite and writhe and moan. He wants to make Shiro scream, wants to scent him until Shiro’s so sensitive he’s crying, wants to fuck Shiro until he’s so full of Keith’s come he’s trembling and dripping. 

The peak of his rut usually brings a fresh wave of emptiness. Keith’s not empty now—he’s full. And Shiro is full too—full of Keith’s cock as the knot grows, gagging for more as Keith fucks into his hole. Keith’s never knotted twice so close together and it feels incredible, pleasure curling its way around Keith’s heart and making his synapses fire off pleasure signals in every direction.

Shiro chokes out a sob, the haze of sleep leaving him as he turns his face and shoves it into the pillow, biting the pillowcase to keep from screaming. Keith wants to hear him scream.

“Please,” Keith chokes out, rutting into Shiro in tiny thrusts. He can’t stop moving, needs the friction like he needs to breathe, but he doesn’t want to dislodge his knot before it fully forms.

“What?” Shiro asks, pillowcase falling from his mouth as he turns wide eyes on Keith.

“Please,” Keith sobs, his hands curling around Shiro’s tiny waist as he rocks forward. “Noises. Makes noises.”

It’s a horrible explanation for the itch inside of him. Keith needs to hear Shiro, needs it so bad.

Theres a moment of pause where Shiro seems to be studying Keith, then a lazy smile spreads across his face as he arches his back off the bed and moans loud and deep, the vibrations of the sound rattling in Keith’s chest. His fingers tighten hard enough to leave marks on Shiro’s hips as Shiro does it again, making deep guttural vocalizations that pierce Keith to the fucking core.

It’s more than a moan, it’s a primal needy sound that punches its way out of Shiro’s chest every time Keith rocks forward. With his knot swollen inside of Shiro, splitting his rim wide, it’s impossible for Keith to actually thrust. He can move though, rocking his hips forward as he paws at Shiro’s chest. Keith comes first, a raw sound falling from his lips at the knowledge that Shiro is so full of him—that his knot is plugging all of his come inside of Shiro and keeping him full.

Long after he’s stopped coming Keith continues to rut, hands all over Shiro’s body—over the breadth of his broad chest and down his muscular arms. Then he moves back up, dropping down to nuzzle his face into Shiro’s armpit and inhaling the musky, sweaty scent of him as his hands move down to Shiro’s cock. Keith is slow with Shiro, far more gentle than he would be with himself, stroking Shiro off just the way he likes.

When Shiro finally comes, it’s with another loud sound that burns itself into Keith’s brain.

“Holy fuck,” Shiro groans, throwing an arm over his head on the pillow and closing his eyes.

Keith lifts himself up onto his elbows to peer down at Shiro taking in the rapid rise and fall of his chest, the pink flush in his cheeks and the kiss and bite marks that litter his body, now joined by blossoming crescent marks on his hips. He’s covered in sweat and come, his hair in disarray, and a bit of dried drool on his chin.

He’s absolutely fucking perfect and Keith feels like he could cry.

Year after year he’d spent his rut wishing he didn’t suffer from Primary Alpha Syndrome and wishing he wasn’t alone, and wishing more than once that he wasn’t an alpha. He dreaded his rut with the passion of a thousand dying suns and cursed his secondary gender, even as he dedicated his life to ensuring that no one else had to suffer the way he suffered. Never once had he known it could be like this—that being bonded to his best friend might make his rut bearable.

There have been moments where Keith felt himself slipping into his old head space, but every time Shiro has been there to pull him out and remind him how loved and wanted he is. It’s more than Keith could have ever hoped for. 

It’s not even that Shiro made his rut bearable, he made it incredible. Keith never knew it could feel like this—that the aimless ache in his heart could have a purpose, and that having a mate could give his rut a purpose and funnel that need into something that might give him the greatest pleasure he’d ever known.

“Are you okay?” Keith asks, kissing his way across Shiro’s chest.

Shiro huffs out an unintelligible sound, turning his head towards Keith and cracking open one eye. “You fucked my brain out. Oh my god, I feel drunk.”

Keith laughs, the first truly joyful sound he’s made since his rut began. “I think, uh…it’s the…hang on I know this,” Keith mumbles, rubbing his face into Shiro’s chest and kissing above his breastbone. After so much rut fog it’s hard to think. “I know this something about, uh…alpha hormones and the bond. Supposed to be like an, uh, aphrodisiac or something so the knot doesn’t hurt. I think.”

“Thank you, Dr. Kogane for that informative answer.”

Keith barks out a laugh. “Fucking smart ass. Fucked out my own brain too. You’re lucky I can even talk.”

Shiro’s demeanor shifts into something soft as he flings his arms out to wrap them around Keith’s back and pulls him down so their chests collide, hugging Keith tightly. 

“So lucky,” he mumbles.

Keith huffs, the momentary reprieve from his arousal leaving him with enough coherence to know that he is the lucky one—so fucking lucky.

“Just wait, when I get my brain back I’ll tell you.”

“Mmm,” Shiro hums, running his fingers up and down Keith’s back. “You gonna talk nerdy to me, love?”

Another laugh rumbles out of Keith’s chest. It’s ridiculous how fucking much he likes Shiro.

“You’re the nerd.”

“Says the med school nerd,” Shiro giggles. “Oh my god, I feel high. These are some fucking amazing pheromones. I can’t even feel my toes.”

“My knot is big,” Keith replies. 

He doesn’t mean it in a bragging way, it’s just the truth, but it sets off a fresh round of laughter in Shiro.

“Big. You’re so big. Keith, you’re so small but so big.”

“Oh my god, you get so knot drunk,” Keith laughs, his heart swelling with so much affection he feels like he might explode. Affection and pride—the alpha part of his brain flooding his endocrine system with oxytocin from the sight of his omega so blissed out from his knot. It makes Keith feel drunk too, drunk on pride.

Keith takes good care of his omega. 

Keith makes his mate happy. 

Keith is a good alpha. 

“Feels amazing,” Shiro mumbles, reaffirming the pride that surges through Keith. 

“Yeah?”

“Hell yeah,” Shiro exhales. His eyes are falling shut again, his heartbeat slowing and his body sinking into the mattress. 

“It’s gonna be awhile until the knot goes down,” Keith murmurs, smoothing his hands down Shiro’s side. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s not even seven, which is as good as trying to wake Shiro at midnight. “Sleep, baby.”

“No, I can keep you company,” Shiro protests between a yawn. It’s clear he’s struggling to remain awake. “Won’t leave you alone.”

Keith drops his face to nuzzle his cheek against Shiro’s, swallowing down the intense rush of love he feels. 

“Sleep,” Keith whispers, his knot in Shiro settling the intense arousal and leaving nothing but the need to care for his mate. Then again, that’s nothing new. Keith always wants to take care of him, make him happy, make him feel loved.

“Not tired,” Shiro mumbles, eyes shut now and his words a little slurred.

“Sure, baby,” Keith agrees, lifting his face enough to watch the moment sleep takes Shiro—mouth falling open in a little sigh as his fingers uncurl against the sheets. It’s incredible to Keith that an omega being knotted by an alpha in rut could possibly feel safe enough to fall asleep and he doesn’t take that for granted one bit, awed and overwhelmed by the sheer level of trust Shiro places in him.

Keith drifts a little, relishing in the haze of knotting bliss and playing with Shiro’s hair as he begins to snore. It’s a long time before Keith’s knot goes down enough for him to move, and when he does—moving only because of a cramp in his leg—his cock slips out of Shiro’s body. The arousal which had died down to glowing embers flares at the sight of his come flowing out of Shiro’s ass. Unconsciously Keith growls, the last of his rut surging.

Shiro’s eyes flutter open, heavy-lidded and full of affection. He doesn’t ask what Keith needs, as if he already knows. Instead he rolls on to his stomach and squeezes his thighs together in silent invitation to fuck them. 

It rips a primal noise from Keith’s throat as he straddles Shiro’s thighs and swipes his fingers into his messy hole to gather enough slick and lube to coat Shiro’s gloriously thick thighs before thrusting forward and watching his cock slide between them. Even sleepy and tired, Shiro’s strong enough to keep his thighs tight and it makes Keith’s entire body tingle with pleasure as he picks up the pace, thrusting into Shiro’s thighs with no mercy—the sound of their skin slapping together and the bed frame slamming into the wall filling the room.

He fucks Shiro hard and fast, the last of his rut clawing its way up his spine. When he feels his orgasm approach he pulls back, grabbing the base of his cock to direct his release all over Shiro’s back. After, he drops onto shaky limbs and licks Shiro clean, paying extra attention to every scar on his body from his accident, and then to the love bites and teeth marks Keith put there.

When he’s done Keith collapses, the last of the intense arousal finally fading.

Keith’s had enough ruts to know exactly what he’s feeling as a wave of intense dizziness and exhaustion hits him with such intensity he falls over, slipping off the edge of the bed and landing on the cold hard floor.

“Ouch,” Keith mumbles, frowning at the post-rut crash that caused him to quite literally _crash_.

Shiro moves faster than Keith has ever seen him move before nine a.m., rolling over and sliding to the floor in a nanosecond.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, looking at Keith with unmasked concern, as if Keith is in some kind of life threatening accident and not that he’s so exhausted from fucking Shiro’s brain out that he fell out of bed.

“Little embarrassed, but I’m fine,” Keith mumbles, rubbing a hand against his ass.

“Hush,” Shiro murmurs, his tone gentle. “It’s just me. No embarrassment allowed.”

Keith shrugs, still a little embarrassed.

“What if I run you a bath, sweetheart? Nice and warm with some Epsom salt for your sore muscles. I’ve got a few bath bombs left too. Could you give the full spa treatment.”

As nice as that sounds in theory, it’s not what Keith wants at all. Their stupid apartment bathtub is way too small to fit both of them and Keith’s emotionally aware enough to know that his post-rut hormones won’t allow him to be separated from his mate for that long. Technically Keith would survive if Shiro left him for a few minutes, but he knows he’d feel like shit and probably cry, which would defeat Shiro’s attempts to pamper Keith. Keith doesn’t need pampering, he just needs his mate.

“I’m going to guess from that wrinkled nose you don’t like the idea?” Shiro laughs.

“It’s just…um—I need to stay close to you,” he whispers, unsure why the confession makes him feel so vulnerable.

“Oh,” Shiro exhales, tipping forward to rest his forehead against Keith’s. “Of course. Anything you need. What do you want, love?”

Keith closes his eyes, breathing in slowly. It’s hard to think about himself when the pull of the rut still lingers and all he wants to do is lavish Shiro in attention. Except he’s too tired to do more than cuddle and while he’s emotionally satiated and content, his body feels like he was thrown off a cliff then run over by a bus. And he’s sticky. So fucking sticky.

“I mean…we’re kind of gross. But the bathtub is too small for both of us,” he mumbles, feeling ridiculous as he says it. He knows Shiro won’t judge him for needing to be close, partly because he’s experienced post-heat neediness himself, and partly because Shiro’s just that decent. But it doesn’t make it any easier for Keith to admit he can’t even take a bath alone.

“Then we’ll shower,” Shiro says without missing a beat.

It tugs a smile from Keith. Shiro always knows exactly what to say. He’s got to be exhausted too, what with Keith’s rut barely letting him sleep. Sleeplessness aside, he’s also got to be sore from all the fucking, but if he is he doesn’t let it show, somehow managing to scoop Keith up like he weighs nothing and carry him to the bathroom. 

“Just hold on to me,” Shiro instructs, hefting Keith up.

“Mmkay,” Keith agrees, because holding on to Shiro is easy and because his legs are as wobbly as a newborn giraffe. 

The shower is a little difficult, what with Keith being unable to stand on his own without slumping down but also refusing to dislodge himself from Shiro’s body long enough for Shiro to get everything ready. In the end, Shiro sits on the edge of their bathtub with Keith in his lap, removing the handheld showerhead to give them both an awkward but unbelievably satisfying shower while sitting down. The water feels so good, washing away the sweat and come, that Keith doesn’t even mind being too weak to properly wash his own hair, especially not when it results in Shiro dropping the showerhead to the tub floor to massage shampoo into Keith’s scalp. It feels good enough that Keith drifts off, half asleep until Shiro begins to wash Keith’s body. It takes awhile to do it one-handed—Shiro’s left arm permanently wrapped around Keith’s middle like he thinks he might fall—but eventually they get clean.

When it’s Shiro’s turn, Keith offers to help even if it’s unwise, but Shiro refuses the offer and instead guides Keith’s head to rest against his shoulder as he haphazardly scrubs at his hair with one hand, and then his body. Keith gets sprayed in the face with soapy water more than once, but it’s a small price to pay to be seated in Shiro’s lap listening to the melodic beating of his heart as warm water cascades over his aching body. 

Keith’s not sure how long they stay like that, with Shiro running warm water over different parts of his body so he never gets cold while stroking a broad palm up and down his spine. All Keith knows is that by the time the water starts to run cold, he’s losing his grasp on consciousness—the adrenaline crash bringing with it a mind blowing level of exhaustion.

“Stay with me for a minute, sweetheart. Let me dry you off and get you in bed,” Shiro says, turning off the shower then squeezing some of the water out of Keith’s hair. 

He responds in nothing but a grunt, burying his face into Shiro’s neck and hoping that will suffice. Sure enough, it does. 

There’s a brief moment where Keith feels as if he might fall out of Shiro’s arms, but Shiro maneuvers his ass onto the edge of the sink. It earns a pathetic whine from Keith when Shiro moves away—only one hand left at his hip to keep him from toppling over—but then strong hands are dragging a soft towel over his body, and Keith relaxes once more.

He lifts one arm to try and help then huffs, his arms suddenly made of lead.

“Let me,” Shiro says as warm lips are pressed to his forehead followed by the towel smoothing down the flat of his belly. 

“Okay,” Keith whispers. He took good care of his mate, maybe it’s okay to let Shiro do this part.

Shiro is methodical and gentle, swiping the towel over every inch of Keith before bringing Keith’s forehead against his chest and gently towel drying his hair. By the time he’s done, Keith isn’t entirely sure if he’s awake or dreaming—stuck somewhere in between both where everything feels safe and warm.

Lips against his cheek let Keith know he’s awake, though he knows it won’t be for long. When it’s time to leave the bathroom, Keith has just enough strength to wrap his arms and legs around Shiro as he’s carried back to their bedroom. He has no intention of ever letting go but Shiro has other plans, settling him down in the chair in the corner with the promise to be quick.

It’s only his intense sleepiness that delays his reaction, and by the time Keith realizes Shiro is leaving he’s already gone. He forces his eyes open and frowns, catching sight of Shiro hurriedly stripping the sheets and waterproof mattress pad off the bed. He wads them all in a ball, shoving them into the already overflowing hamper in the closet before pulling out the spare set of sheets and making the bed. When he’s done he turns back to Keith with a smile, quickly crossing the room.

He’s quiet as he helps Keith up, supporting most of his weight as Keith stumbles to the bed. He’s had nurses and doctors and rut specialists help him to bed after a rut before and always felt dwarfed by embarrassment and shame. It’s not like that now. Keith doesn’t feel weak or less than for needing Shiro, he just feels grateful to have a partner who cares so deeply and unselfishly for Keith’s well being. He never asks for anything in return, and it makes Keith want to give him everything.

Mentally, Keith’s already planning on how to spoil Shiro later—that new cologne he’s been wanting, a night out so he can dress up, and then come back home to fuck his brains out. Keith might be so spent that just the idea of fucking makes him feel like his dick might fall off, but that doesn’t mean his brain isn’t perfectly aware that once the fatigue passes he’s gonna want to be all over Shiro once more. It’s a fleeting thought, and one Keith plans to revisit when he doesn’t feel like he’s been drugged.

For right now, he’s content to let Shiro help him into bed and tuck him in, attaching himself to Shiro when he slides in after. Distantly, he’s aware of Shiro talking, something about hydration and food, but Keith’s too sleepy to care about anything but sleep and ignores him, fluttering his eyes shut as he drifts off to sleep.

Keith rouses to consciousness slowly, the feeling of strong fingers smoothing the hair back off his forehead dragging him out of sleep and into a state of wakefulness. 

“Hi,” Shiro murmurs, nuzzling his nose against Keith’s. “I need you to drink.”

Keith grunts out a sound of undisguised displeasure, the idea of doing more than he is—which is absolutely nothing—sounds exhausting.

Shiro chuckles, smoothing his fingers over Keith’s scalp and down to the back of his neck. “I know, love. But you’ve been sleeping for so long and I called Kolivan and he said I needed to make sure you got hydrated and ate something because of your history of dehydration. I know you just wanna keep sleeping, but if you do that then you might need to go into the hospital for fluids and I know that’s not what you want.”

Keith grunts louder, the word hospital causing a viscerally negative reaction in him. As a future doctor Keith likes hospitals, when he’s in charge. The idea of being a patient makes his skin crawl.

“Hey, it’s okay. You’re okay. I’m probably just worrying but,” Shiro pauses inhaling slowly. This close, with his hand resting against Shiro’s chest, he can feel the sudden uptick in his heartbeat. “I’m worried.”

The words pierce through Keith’s grumpy, sleep-filled haze. Left to his own devices, Keith has a bad habit of ignoring what is best for him. But he’s not alone anymore. Shiro is here and his worry is enough to rouse Keith.

“Okay,” Keith concedes.

There’s an audible exhale from Shiro, his relief palpable. “Okay? Okay. Good. Good. What do you want? I’ll get you anything? Um…we have leftover mac n cheese and some cans of soup. We’re kind of low on fresh stuff, and if I’d known you were having a rut I would’ve stocked up. Lance texted while you were asleep and offered to drop off groceries if we need, or I can call have something delivered. I’ll get you anything you want. What sounds good?”

It’s way too many options for Keith who honestly wants nothing more than to shove his face into Shiro’s neck and go back to sleep.

“Dunno,” he mumbles, feeling guilty for his unhelpful answer but is also unable to think this hard, especially when he doesn’t even actually want to eat or drink and is only doing it so Shiro won’t worry. “Sorry.”

“It’s ok,” Shiro says, in a tone that makes Keith feel like maybe it actually is okay. “I have an idea. You think you’d be okay if I go to the kitchen really quick? I won’t be long.”

Keith resists the urge to answer yes without actually thinking about it, aware that Shiro doesn’t want the easy answer, he wants the honest one. He closes his eyes and inhales slowly, giving himself a moment to really appraise how he’s feeling. There’s a lingering fatigue that pervades his entire body—his thoughts hazy and limbs heavy—but it’s different from his previous exhaustion. If he pushes at the feelings he finds that there’s none of the insecurity or loss of control from before, just a sense of physical weakness. He wiggles his limbs, stretching out the stiffness and groaning at the ache in his bones, then smiling—it’s a good ache, and the memory of all the way’s he’d fucked Shiro brings a rush of warmth to his cheeks.

He pushes further, slowing his breathing as he mentally pokes at the emotional vulnerability he feels, unsurprised that his edges feel a little frayed and delicate. Having Shiro here holding him close soothes that feeling, but he can tell it’s different than before. While he wants Shiro to stay in bed with him, he knows he doesn’t _need_ him to.

Patient as ever, Shiro says nothing. He merely strokes his fingers over the back of Keith’s neck and waits until Keith flutters his eyes open.

“I think…I think I’m okay,” Keith answers, surprised at how true the words are.

“Good. Good,” Shiro murmurs, his voice wobbling as he darts forward to kiss Keith. It’s chaste but laced with emotion and Keith has the sudden thought that maybe he’s not the only one feeling a little overwhelmed. “I’ll be right back, I promise.”

Keith hums, too sleepy to vocalize all he’s feeling. Maybe when he’s woken up more and had some food he’ll be better able to explain.

Shiro steals one more kiss before slipping out of bed, revealing his very naked ass. Keith blinks as he takes in Shiro’s body, which is absolutely littered with purple lovebites and teeth marks. They cover both his ass cheeks and his back, they’re all over his glorious thighs, and when he turns around to grin at Keith he realizes there’s barely an inch of Shiro’s body that he didn’t mark.

“Like what you see?” Shiro smirks, puffing up his chest a little in an obvious attempt to display his body for Keith.

“Yes,” Keith nods, rolling onto his belly and resting his chin on his folded arms as he stares at Shiro and lets out a wolf whistle. 

A pretty pink blush spreads across the bridge of Shiro’s nose as he yanks open the dresser and grabs a pair of tiny black boxers, tugging them on and sliding his feet into his slippers. The boxers do nothing to hide Shiro’s body, and the sight of teeth marks peeking out of the top of the waistband when he turns around to go down the hallway makes Keith’s chest flutter. He’s way too tired for any actual arousal, but never too tired to appreciate how stunning his mate is—or how fucking good it feels to see his body littered with such tangible proof that he is Keith’s. Even out of his rut, Keith can admit he’s got a bit of a possessive side.

True to his word, Shiro is only gone a few minutes. When he returns, it’s with a shy smile and a tray held in his hands. Keith forces himself into a sitting position, tugging the blanket over his lap as Shiro climbs in, setting the tray in front of him.

“Oh,” Keith exhales, taking in the contents.

Pie. Shiro brought him cherry pie. There’s a plate with a generously sized slice, bright red cherry pie filling spilling out the crust and a Shiro sized amount of whipped cream on top. There’s even a big glass of milk and even a a single rose in a coffee mug of water.

“I, uh, couldn’t exactly go get you flowers. Cut it off the bush out front. And, uh, we don’t actually have any vases so, yeah.”

He looks nervous, as if he has no idea how utterly perfect it is—how utterly perfect _he_ is.

“I love it,” Keith says, surprised at the little grumble of hunger his stomach gives as he reaches for the plate of pie and scoops up a huge bite.

“If it tastes horrible you can tell me. I’ll call and order pizza.”

Even if it did taste horrible, Keith knows not even the threat of death would make him tell Shiro, not with him sitting there looking so nervous and eager. 

“I’m sure it's delicious,” Keith says, smiling around his first mouthful of pie.

Shiro folds his hands in his lap and watches, twisting his fingers together. At the first taste of sweet cherries and flaky crust on Keith’s tongue he feels the tears coming, and there’s nothing he can do to stop them from falling as he chews despite how much he wishes he could.

“Fuck, is it that bad?” Shiro asks, misunderstanding the wetness on Keith’s cheeks.

Keith shakes his head, throat wobbling as he swallows. He doesn’t know how to explain how he feels right now—safer and more loved than he can remember being since he was a child. The pie is good, really fucking good, but it’s not about the taste. It’s that Shiro cared enough to ask for the memory, that he cared enough to find a recipe and try to cook even though he’s not an experienced baker.

It’s not just the pie, it's what the pie represents—how deeply Shiro loves Keith.

“I’m sorry, I tried,” Shiro mumbles, trying to take the plate of pie. 

Keith shakes his head again, yanking the pie away and holding it to his chest as he takes another bite and continues to cry.

“ _Keith_.”

“It’s okay,” Keith mumbles around a mouthful, only setting the pie down when it becomes clear he needs to wipe away the tears. He reaches for the milk, chugging down half the glass before turning his gaze on Shiro and crawling towards him.

Shiro pushes the tray down the bed, enveloping Keith in his embrace as Keith climbs into his lap. He doesn’t hide the tears, just lets them fall as he gives Shiro a wobbly smile.

“I love you so much. Thank you.”

“It’s just pie,” Shiro whispers, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb.

“Not just the pie. Just…everything,” Keith whispers. “Thank you for loving me.”

“Oh,” Shiro whispers. “Loving you is the easiest thing I’ve ever done.”

The words make the tears fall harder and Keith chokes out a laugh. It’s such a Shiro thing to say. He sniffles a bit, swiping his hand over his eyes as Shiro's hands settle on his lower back, immediately tracing little circles against the base of his spine. When they first got together, Keith had wondered if Shiro being so physical was due to the bond, but it’s something he’s since learned is just a part of Shiro and how he expresses his love. 

“So was it…uh, you know—was it okay? I wasn’t too much?” Keith asks.

“Not possible,” Shiro assures him, kissing the tip of his nose. “You were incredible. I’ve never been so in awe of you or more proud. You were so brave.”

Keith doesn’t realize how much he needs to hear the words until they're out of Shiro’s mouth, earning a few more tears from Keith moments after he’s finally managed to stop.

“So brave,” Shiro repeats, kissing the wet spots on his cheekbones. “So strong and incredible. Also, a good fuck. Ten out of ten would fuck again.”

The tears turn to laughter as Keith’s entire body shakes. “ _Shiro._.”

“It’s true. Best fuck of my life. My ass is sore as hell so you’re gonna be on the receiving end for the next few days, but it was amazing.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Shiro confirms, nudging his nose into Keith’s cheek and dragging their lips together in a not quite kiss. “Even in the throws of a rut you were so good to me, always taking care of me. You’re such a good alpha.”

Keith huffs, a pleased growl rumbling out of his chest as he kisses Shiro.

When Kolivan had told him it was possible to have a good rut he hadn’t believed him. At best he’d hoped for tolerable, at worst he thought he might scare Shiro away. Finding out that Shiro didn’t just tolerate Keith in rut but loved it is a lot for Keith to process.

“So, how do you feel?” Shiro asks, still nuzzling his nose against Keith’s cheek. It’s still not a kiss, just a touch—a need to be close. “Be honest.”

“Really fucking happy, baby” Keith answers without missing a beat. 

This answer he doesn’t need to think about—the truth rings clear as day. 

“Me too,” Shiro whispers, lips hovering close to Keith’s for a moment before he kisses him. 

It’s a sweet kiss, nothing desperate or hurried about it—just the sweet promise of many more tomorrows. The taste of cherry pie lingers on his tongue as he slips it into Shiro’s mouth and hums with pleasure.

For the first time in his life there’s no post-rut guilt and shame hanging over his head, or the dread of his next rut even a full year away. All he feels is pleasure and happiness in equal measure. He has no idea what exactly the future will hold for him and Shiro as their heats and ruts continue to go off balance as they sync, but he’s not afraid.

He’s just happy.

So damn happy.

**Author's Note:**

> Come scream about Sheith with me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/goldentruth813)


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